


time casts a spell on you (but you won't forget me)

by only_because3



Category: Glee, Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 62,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_because3/pseuds/only_because3
Summary: “I had a sister once.”Kara props her head up on Lena’s belly slowly, cautious of the tiny little thing beneath the swell. “You’ve never told me that before,” Kara says softly.or Lena Luthor and Quinn Fabray are long lost sisters





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I swore for a really long time I wasn't writing this. But Katie McGrath and Dianna Agron just look WAY too much alike and Lena and Quinn give me WAY too many feelings. I hope literally anyone else besides me and my wife enjoy this!

“I had a sister once.”

Kara props her head up on Lena’s belly slowly, cautious of the tiny little thing beneath the swell. “You’ve never told me that before,” Kara says softly. She doesn’t shy away from looking into Lena’s eyes, never has when it comes to these heavy conversations that have fostered this love between them. Her fingers still stroke softly at Lena’s stomach, a distraction that grounds Lena in the best way possible.

“I can’t remember the last time I spoke of her aloud.” She feels a bit guilty then, not for all but pretending her sister didn’t exist, but for not telling Kara sooner. They’ve been together for years now and, as cliche as it is, Kara knows her better than she knows herself. But family has always been a tender subject for them both, the two of them deciding it best to just move forward with their own little unit than angst over the ones not there any longer. And this… Lena licks her lips, lets her hand fall to Kara’s hair and strokes it tenderly. “I remember being so jealous, having to share my mum with her, the two of us being only a year or so apart.”

Her lovely, inquisitive Kara doesn’t hold back. Just presses a kiss to Lena’s stomach and palms her sides before asking, “What happened to her?”

“I’m not sure.” Kara’s hands press harder into her sides and a frown worries her lips. Lena smiles sadly, patting Kara’s head. “It’s alright, love.” A sigh mixes with something close to a laugh. “Apparently, I’m just not meant to have a sibling.”

The scowl she receives from her wife doesn’t surprise her in the least. “Stop that. You  _ do _ have siblings.” Kara’s features soften. “I’m just sorry that they aren’t what you deserve.”

Lena makes a noise in her throat and tries to wave away this conversation she’s stupidly brought up. Hormones, she thinks, they’re what's to blame. For making her think of the sister she lost, of thinking of the brother she lost, of thinking of the mother she lost. She hasn’t ached for a family this way in so long but the child beneath her skin has her mind swimming with memories that she can’t keep ignoring any longer. “I hope she’s happy.”

Kara shimmies up until her nose brushes against Lena’s. She drops kisses along Lena’s brow, cheeks, jaw, ends with her lips. Lena relaxes again, not realizing until then that she’d begun to tense up. Kara smiles softly. “Are you happy?”

“Of course,” Lena answers, the answer as easy as breathing. Kara’s smile grows then and Lena is reminded of the sun and she warms under it.

“You could find her, you know.” Kara drops another kiss, this time near Lena’s ear. “I’ll be right beside you.”

It’s a nice idea, Lena thinks. But she dismisses it fleetingly, pulls Kara in for a proper kiss to distract her wife from the notion for now.

She’s too scared of who she’ll find if she goes digging.

\--

“Your phone has been ringing for the past five minutes,” Santana grumbles from the bed when Quinn walks in from the en suite. Santana hasn’t moved an inch since Quinn had left for her shower. With a soft sigh, Quinn pads over to the charging station on top of her dresser. She rolls her eyes.

“It was your phone,” she says, tossing it so that it hits Santana’s back with a slap. Quinn busies herself with checking her own phone and, satisfied when she finds no missed calls or texts, grabs her tablet to begin shuffling through emails. There’s a few from some colleagues and a slew from students, most concerned with the paper due on Monday. Normally she’d respond right away, but Santana is making excited noises behind her and the telltale rings of facetime fill the room shortly after. 

“Hi, baby!” Santana sounds much more chipper than she did a minute ago and Quinn finds herself smirking at the change as she hears Brittany rattling off her own hello, yelling good morning to Quinn too.

Quinn drops down on the edge of the bed next to Santana, all smiles as she pushes her way onto the screen. “Hey, B. Where are you now?”

Brittany yawns. “Just got to the hotel in National City. I’m exhausted from all this time travel.” Quinn rolls her eyes fondly and gets up, leaving Santana to talk to her wife with that dopey grin on her face.

Her own phone actually does ring by the time she gets into the kitchen and, too distracted by the mess she and Santana left last night before crashing, she answers it without looking to see who is calling. “Hi.”

Quinn blinks, no longer bothering to fiddle with cleaning up the kitchen. “Hi,” she says a little breathlessly. “Is everything okay?”

“I can’t call just because,” she bristles, voice hard like it almost always is when they talk.

“Of course you can, Beth. Of course,” Quinn answers quickly. “You just never have before. And especially not so early for you.” With a quick glance at the clock on the stove, Quinn asks, “what are you doing up at 4:30 on a Sunday anyway?”

There’s some shuffling on the other end and Quinn thinks of where Beth could be now. Quinn hopes she’s home, in the room Quinn has never seen, safe and warm. Quinn doesn’t try to imagine the details, never has and can’t start now, thinking of Beth’s house and room impersonally. What comes to mind, stupidly, is her own childhood room, though there is a flourish to it that she can’t quite place.

It’s ridiculous, she knows, to think that Beth’s space would be anything like hers was at that age.

Beth takes a gulp of air and then there’s a laugh strangled in her throat. “This was… Nevermind. Forget I called.”

Quinn stutters out a response but it’s too late anyway, the line beeping and going dead against her ear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please everyone, lower your expectations. Updates will not be coming this fast normally :P Also, just know that I'm playing fast and loose with canon, especially when it comes to the Glee portion

If she truly wanted to, she could find a more private physician. It’s not as though money is a factor; before, when Lena had first moved to National City, she had a doctor on retainer, one that would do house calls. But it seems ridiculous now, indulgent, so she sits in the waiting room of the best OBGYNs in National City. The best because though she may deem having a private doctor unnecessary, this is still her and Kara’s child. It deserves the best things that they can give it.

Some of the women shift uncomfortably in their seats, faces pinched and bellies large, no doubt here for an ultrasound. It makes Lena’s face rumple, fingers tapping rhythmically at her thigh, unexcited about reaching that point of her pregnancy. Despite everything, the women in the waiting room look happy, even the ones with their babies pressing down on full bladders, the radiance of impending parenthood pouring out of them causing Lena to shrink internally. Logically, she knows that these feelings of fear and despondency aren’t exclusive to her. From the light googling she’s done while on boring conference calls, it’s normal for expectant parents to feel inadequate, sure that they’ll ruin their future children. But, as always, the Luthor of it all looms and she can’t help but think she’s made a terrible mistake.

“Lena.” The medical assistant smiles at her brightly from the door and Lena plasters a smile on her face, standing with the grace that was instilled in her ever since her mother passed.

Everything goes well and her doctor is wonderful as always, making small talk not only about how pregnancy has been treating her, but about Kara and work. She’s assured that everything is normal and Lena readjusts her blouse, assuming that’ll be the end of this appointment. Then Dr. Ellery leans against the counter, looking softly at Lena. “So, what’s bothering you?”

She considers brushing off her doctor, continue to deal with the swirling mess in her head alone, but perhaps it’s a sign that Kara couldn’t make this appointment. With a heavy sigh, Lena leans back on her hands. She goes for brevity. “What if I’m a failure at this?”

Her doctor nods, knowing, and stands up straighter. “Have you talked to Kara about what you’re feeling?”

“Of course,” Lena says. “She’s nervous too but she’s not… She was with her family a lot longer than I was. Her adoption experience was a lot healthier than mine too.” Speaking with Kara about her fears wasn't bad by any means. It did help to know that motherhood was just as daunting to her wife but Kara believes in them both so much. She has so much faith that they’ll do this right. And why wouldn't she? Between the Danvers and her birth family, Kara had been surrounded by love. Even though a certain type of loneliness, of disconnect, resided in Kara, Kara still had a home. Until she met Kara, Lena didn't even think it was possible to feel home in people, barely knew what it was like to feel home in a place.

She laughs softly, wants to make light of this darkness that she fears will swallow her whole. Dr. Ellery doesn't let her off that easy and fixes her with a stare that Lena finds herself deflating under. She sits up straighter and her fingers twitch in front of her stomach. Lena muses, thinks of what she thinks she needs, of what exactly she feels she's lacking. “It's a lot easier for my wife to hope. And I need that, I know that I do… but I also want someone to tell me I'm not the horrible person everyone thinks I am for feeling completely unequipped to have a child when I myself never had a family.”

Dr. Ellery smiles sadly at her, steps forward to give Lena’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You're not a horrible person. You're not only worried about your baby, but your own mental health as well. In my professional opinion, that makes you a textbook expectant parent.” Tears gather in her eyes against her wishes and, thankfully, Dr. Ellery retreats to her computer so that Lena can compose herself. “But, to help ease your mind, I'm going to recommend a therapist. However, if that seems too,” she pauses to spare a glance at Lena, “complicated, I would consider looking into your birth lineage. You may bear Luthor but you had a mom once too.”

Lena takes a staggering breath and nods.

\--

“You cannot tell  _ her mother _ that you are worried, jesus, you fucking narc.”

The woman taking her seat in the row in front of them eyes Santana sharply but her friend doesn't notice, too focused on staring at Quinn incredulously. Quinn glares back, plucking a magazine from the pocket in front of her and leaning further against the window. “I’m not her friend. I have an obligation-”

“But you don’t,” Santana cuts her off. “You’re not her friend. You’re not her mom.” Santana shakes her head and Quinn can't make heads or tails of the way those statements make her feel. “Just leave her be, Q.”

They haven’t even taken off yet and Quinn is already brimming with regret for agreeing to go see Brittany’s last show with Santana. She readjusts in her seat, legs crossing beneath the magazine she flips through blankly. Santana is still staring at her but Quinn keeps her eyes pointedly on the ad for women’s razors.

Quinn knows that she is nothing to Beth. She may be her birth mother, but that connection doesn’t carry any weight, hasn’t since those two days in the hospital when Beth was born. At most, they talk a few times a year, mostly around holidays and birthdays. It’s not entirely awkward but it’s not comfortable either, especially now that Beth is 15. So, yes, maybe Santana is right. She should leave Beth be and not complicate her life by causing what could be unnecessary friction between her and her mother.

Santana takes a deep breath and her posture softens a hair. “Can you imagine someone calling our parents and ratting us out when we were that age? And we actually did shit! You don't even know if anything is wrong with Beth.” 

“I think the fact that she called me, a person who is nothing more than a distant family friend, means that something is off,” Quinn returns. If they were closer, then this phone call business wouldn't even be an issue. It would have been normal. But this decidedly isn't normal, not for them, and Quinn finds herself rationalizing this by thinking of Beth as one of her students. 

If a student had called her in the same manner Beth did, Quinn would check in with them the following day, go to her superiors if she were really worried too. Though Quinn has less of a connection with Beth than most of her students, there is a pull inside of her telling her that she would want to know about this. If Beth is feeling alone or in trouble… Quinn doesn't want her to feel like she did in high school. 

She hasn’t heard a single thing from Beth since the call a few days ago and Quinn knows if she does nothing, this unsettling feeling inside her will settle like a rock in her stomach. Quinn resolves to call Shelby as soon as they land in National City. Even if Beth isn’t in any sort of real trouble, she is a teenager. The age Quinn was when Beth grew inside her.

Santana has given up changing Quinn’s mind with a small huff, turning her attention to the newspaper she brought in her carryon.

Quinn swallows hard and wills herself to become engrossed in the article on LCorp’s latest renewable energy source. 

\--

“Don’t tell me you’ve gotten stuck already.”

Lena cracks an eye open from her spot on the floor, lips quirking when they land on her wife. Still dressed in Supergirl garb and hands full of take out, Kara laughs from the doorway of what will soon become their son’s bedroom. Dramatically, Lena splays out her limbs. “Yes, thank goodness you’ve arrived, Supergirl. I laid down and have been unable to get up for hours now!”

Kara laughs again but still moves to Lena’s side in an instant, helping Lena sit up even though she doesn’t need the help. “Back hurting, babe? Because we have a very expensive bed that’s supposed to help you with that.”

Lena smiles and shakes her head. She drops a kiss to Kara’s lips before opening up the bag that Kara set down. She thinks she may have to break it to Kara soon that she won’t be able to stomach Chinese food much longer. Just looking at the spread is giving her heartburn. “I was just thinking about everything.” Kara’s brow wrinkles with worry and Lena softly takes her wife’s hand in her own. “I’m still so worried, darling.”

Kara’s smile shrinks, a little more guarded than it was before. “I figured,” she says softly. One hand absentmindedly strokes Lena’s back, the other firm and reassuring and warm on Lena’s thigh. “I’m sorry I didn't help ease your worries.”

Shaking her head, Lena presses closer to Kara. “No, no, you were perfect.” She cups Kara’s cheeks in her hands, thumbs stroking at the corners of Kara’s lips until her shy smile grows into the large, stunning smile that Lena loves. “I need your positivity but I need to still be scared too.”

“Well,” Kara breathes out and she pulls Lena fully into her lap, wrapping her arms around Lena tight. “I'm still sorry that you're scared.” Kara’s lips press along her jaw in slow, easy kisses. “You spoke to Dr. Ellery?”

She shouldn't be surprised Kara knows her so well. Lena nods before putting her head down in the crook of Kara’s neck. “She suggested therapy.” Kara doesn't say anything, just continues to hold her, brings her own cheek down to rest against Lena’s head. “Suggested looking into my birth family as well.”

Still, Kara is silent and Lena worries for a moment that perhaps she's made Kara feel that she doesn't want,  _ need _ , Kara’s input. Kara chuckles quietly. “I'm just letting you go your own pace, baby,” Kara says like she can read Lena’s mind, runs a hand up and down Lena’s arm. “You don't want to tell me what you think first?”

Lena takes in a deep breath, determined to tell Kara that she is completely positive that she has no idea what she should do. It's not that Lena has a problem with therapy, had actually seen a therapist off and on for years when she could manage it. She could likely find one the specializes not only in helping pregnant people but also with adoptees. Dr. Ellery would most definitely refer her to some good doctors and it seems like a great place to start. She sighs lightly, body becoming a little more rigid.

Honestly, it is the idea of searching, digging into the past that she's never let herself dwell on, scares her. She remembers as a child thinking of her mum often. It's all she knew and though she was brought immediately into the Luthor household with Lex and her father who treated her so kind, it wasn't the same. She hadn't been away from her mum for longer than a day and suddenly she was to be away from her forever, Lillian a poor excuse of a replacement. Lena thought of her sister too but she was so conflicted about her sister. With her mum, she _ longed _ for her, ached without her. But her sister… Lena found herself excited at being alone for the first time since she could remember but with that came a weight lying heavy in her stomach at no longer having her shadow.

As she grew older she thought of them less and less despite herself. She became a Luthor and that was the end of it. She cannot remember the faces or voices of her birth family, only longs for them in a silent manner that she can't quite shake.

"I know that any therapist will tell me to find out things about my mum and sister," Lena says finally. "I'm not sure I'm ready to miss more people than I already do."

A hitch in Kara's breath and Lena finds herself being held tighter. It feels almost like Kara is trying to fuse them together so that she may bear the weight of Lena's heart too. Lena reaches up and cradles Kara's face while bringing Kara's hand to her swollen belly. Lena feels the murmured affection rumble in Kara's throat before Kara cautiously asks, "are you afraid of what you might find?"

Lena lets out a terribly sad laugh. "Absolutely."

Kara pulls back though it seems like it pains her to do so, looking Lena square in the face. "The last time I told you to take a chance on your family, it was a complete mess. But you also married a bleeding heart..." A tiny smile creeps onto Lena's features. "Whatever you want to do, I will do everything in my power to help you. I could even do some digging first if you want. Make sure that there's anything you'd want to know or not."

"You'd do that," Lena asks, still amazed each day by how genuine Kara is in her kindness. She wonders briefly if this is how she'll feel forever, inexplicably and beautifully fond of her wife's pure heart.

Kara nods, firm, smile full on her face. "I would do anything for you, Lena."

"Even use your heat vision or freeze breath," Lena pokes and Kara throws her head back in a laugh before saying yes, she would even use her powers if it meant Lena would be happy.

\--

Calling Shelby, Quinn decided on the plane, isn’t exactly a good idea. For one, she doesn’t want the other woman to feel obligated to see her. It just so happens that Quinn is in town, this short and impromptu trip having nothing to do with this simmering worry about Beth. Asking to meet up and discuss things would make this whole situation much more serious than it is. Than Quinn hopes it is. Besides, if she goes to see Shelby, Beth will most certainly be brought along, and Quinn doubts that would be a good idea.

The sun shines bright through the hotel window and Quinn scrubs a towel over her wet hair. She fishes through her only bag, tosses the dress she plans to wear tonight onto the desk, and grabs her tablet.

She opts instead to send Shelby an email.

The niceties at the beginning come easy enough. She asks how Shelby has been, how teaching is going, searches around in her brain to remember something more personal Shelby had mentioned the last time they spoke and finally asks too if she'd decided to go with the Volvo or Subaru for her car upgrade.

She decides to include a bit about what she's up to as well, even though it is perhaps presumptuous that Shelby would want to know. Quinn figures it's okay though, it's not as if she does much anyway. She's got her classes at the university, provides Santana with the occasional help for the protests and rallies she organizes. There is no partner to speak of, no big purchase to be made. Her life is simple, thankfully.

Quinn sits down on the edge of her bed and, with a deep breath, begins the more cumbersome part of the the email and the whole reason for reaching out.

_ I know that Beth is old enough now to tell me herself if she'd like and I suppose I could just email her myself, but I was wondering how she's doing. I know 16 tends to be the big year for most kids but I can't help but worry that 15 may be a little harder for her than others given everything. _

Quinn worries her lip, letting her nails tap lightly against the keys. She erases the entire paragraph and starts again.

_ I'm not sure if you're aware but Beth called me early one morning a little while ago. She didn't say much and I was too shocked to say much either. 15, as you well know, was a big and difficult year for me, and I worry how she's doing now that she's the same age. Is school going well for her? What about her piano lessons? It's been a bit since you've sent me anything from a recital, not that you are required to. _

Quinn huffs. She feels ridiculous, unable to craft a simple email. This has always been a tricky path for her to follow, unsure of where the line is and not wanting to cross it. She's not Beth's mom and yet there is the connection of being her mother, of knowing what it feels like to have Beth stretch and kick inside her.

She thinks briefly of what Santana said on the plane. She could delete the entire email, leave it be, and sweep the whole thing under the rug. It's certainly what her own mother would have done.

At that, Quinn sits up straighter.

_ I just hope that she's doing well. That she's happy, much happier than I was at her age. With you as her parent though, I'm sure she's already got a huge head start in that department. _

_ I don't mean to worry you with this email, I'm just unsure of what to make of her call and don't want to overstep by contacting her directly. _

_ Best, Quinn _

She hits send before she can over think anymore than she already has.

\--

The water is cold, the pipes not warmed up for the day just yet, no matter how new and fancy their apartment building is. Kara washes out the cup she'd been nursing all night, the pink tinge of dried tea staining the bottom, takes note of how the Union Jack has started to chip on certain parts of the mug, no doubt from when Lena’s accidentally run it through the dishwasher. The memory of buying it warms her chest and Kara thinks of how excited she'd been to find a souvenir shop, how amused Lena had been at her excitement. 

The whole trip had been so eye opening. To travel streets that were brand new to her but so familiar to Lena made Kara’s heart soar. It was so rare for Lena to speak of her past without sadness following like an aftertaste. London and Greenwich had been different though. Lena spoke of so many places fondly, laughter peppering her speech as she told Kara stories of shenanigans she and her housemates would get into. Kara knows it was probably hard for Lena to have been separated from her father and Lex, but boarding school wasn't a lonely or sad time of Lena’s life. One of the very few. 

Sunlight starts to fill the apartment and, with a glance to the clock behind her, Kara realizes she’s lost the whole night to investigating. She lets out a small sigh and it turns quickly into a yawn. She probably should've called it a night while it was still, well, night. Kara pads down the hall to the room she shares with Lena, stopping briefly to make sure the heat is still on. 

The blackout curtains that line one wall of their room are doing a fantastic job, luring Kara even more towards sleep. Lena rolls over with a soft noise, suddenly visible in the mess of sheets and blankets. Most of her hair has escaped the braid Kara had done last night, a few ebony strands near her hairline defying gravity and sticking wayward off Lena’s head. Her sleep shirt has twisted and rolled up, leaves Lena gently exposed. The curve of her spine, the [bow] of her hips has gotten more dramatic to support Lena’s growing stomach and Kara finds herself aching to touch the soft skin. 

Carefully, she slips into bed. Lena’s begun to toss a lot more now, this body she has no longer so easy to make comfortable. It doesn't seem to matter how stealthy Kara is though because as soon as Kara settles her head to the pillow, Lena pushes away the blankets she'd made into a makeshift body pillow and drapes herself over Kara. “I missed you,” Lena murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

Kara hums in her chest. She can feel their son against her own belly and she smiles widely. “You've been asleep,” she whispers. Her arm holds Lena close to her and Kara tucks her chin to leave kisses on Lena’s head.

“I can't miss you when I sleep?” She thinks there's a small pinch to her hip but Lena is still so lazy with sleep that the act might as well be a breeze against Kara’s skin. They lay in silence for a long, languid moment, and Kara finds herself nearing sleep when Lena shuffles a little. Their legs tangle but it seems the rest of Lena can't get comfortable and she pouts accordingly when she has to pull away from Kara. “Spoon me, will you,” Lena asks in a huff, not irritated with Kara but with herself. Before turning onto her other side she grabs the blankets and presses them against her front, effectively sandwiching herself once Kara molds herself to Lena’s back.

Kara keeps her arm tight around her wife, not relaxing until Lena eases beneath her touch. “How'd you sleep?”

Another small huff. “Would've been better had you been beside me.”

She doesn't stop the bark of laughter that bubbles out of her throat. “Liar.”

Lena looks over her shoulder, face pulled together in innocence. “I always sleep better next to you.”

Kara snorts. “Uh, not since you've hit your second trimester, sweetheart.” Lena’s eyebrows drop, features mixing with irritation and sadness, and Kara peppers Lena’s face with exaggerated kisses before it can settle on anything other than laughter. “But it's okay. The boy’s just got you all uncomfortable."

“That's an understatement.” Lena settles back down with a light sigh, her hand coming to give Kara’s a tight squeeze. “You've done it, haven't you?”

“Yes,” Kara exhales and she finds herself trying to bring Lena closer even though she knows it's impossible. Kara noses Lena’s braid out of the way and presses her lips against the soft skin of Lena’s neck, keeps them there after the pressure of the kiss is gone. Lena draws Kara’s arm up so it rests between the barely there valley of her breasts, finger drawing out little letters in Kryptonian along Kara's skin. Lena’s pulse has quickened but her breathing remains steady, calm. “You don't have to read it now, or even soon.” Kara flattens her palm against Lena’s chest, over her heart. “Or ever.” She thinks she might feel a scoff get caught in Lena’s throat and Kara can't do this not looking at Lena’s face.

She pulls back and Lena genuinely whines, low and needy and sad. Kara murmurs apologies as she climbs over Lena, careful. There's a nervous wrinkle over Lena’s features, eyes a little shiny, and Kara takes both cheeks in her hands. “I love you, Lena.”

Lena takes a shaky breath and bites at the corner of her lip briefly. She holds onto Kara’s wrists, tight. “I love you too, darling.” They meet halfway for a kiss and Kara’s lips stretch into a smile against Lena’s when her wife throws a leg over her hip. “Thank you,” Lena murmurs between kisses. Kara can taste the words Lena can't quite form and she tries to steal the uncertainty, wants to help ease the weight. Her hands move to tangle in soft, dark hair, Lena’s braid more of a memory now than anything. Lena’s hips rock slightly and Kara lets her whole body go lax so that Lena can roll them with ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise next chapter will be the chapter I'm sure you guys are waiting for.
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr @idontneedtobeforgiven


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a month but it's also a pretty nice sized chapter! As always, please remember I play around with canon a lot (especially on the Glee side of things). Enjoy!

Of all the people she was expecting to see when Brittany invited her out, Quinn was not one of them.

There she is nevertheless, eyes wide as she stands in the doorway of the bathroom. “Rachel?”

“Hey! Brittany didn't tell me you were in town,” Rachel says warmly. She tugs Quinn so that she's no longer blocking the bathroom, offers the woman in line behind her to go ahead. “Did you come for the final show?”

Quinn nods and Rachel tries not to be offended at how shocked Quinn still looks. “Yeah, yeah, I flew in with San.” Rachel gives Quinn’s forearm a squeeze before putting space between them again. Quinn takes a deep breath then, relaxing visibly. “Did you just get here?”

“Yeah, parking was awful.” She takes stock of Quinn, smiling at what she sees. Her hair, longer than it was when Rachel saw her a couple years ago, is pinned back at the sides and falling in soft waves passed her shoulders. Her legs are encased in jeans and paired with a plain white shirt. Her makeup is a little thicker than Rachel would expect but she supposes it's because of the concert. “You look good, Quinn.”

The hallway is dim, cloaking Quinn in shadows, but Rachel can still see the faint blush that dusts her cheeks. “Thanks,” Quinn murmurs and doesn't look away from Rachel’s face before adding, “You too.” 

Rachel tilts her head to the side, let's out a short soft laugh and dips her head. The bathroom door opens again, the pair wincing at the sudden immersion of light. Before the door can close, Rachel stops it. “Let's catch up back at the table?”

Quinn nods once more before pushing off down the hall to the tables everyone has claimed.

Rachel hikes up her dress and pees, smooths it out when she stands, washes her hands. She takes a long breath and examines herself closely in the mirror. The long day of shooting is evident in the creases around her eyes and she makes a mental note to order some more of the night cream she likes. She debates putting on a fresh coat of lipstick but decides against it, choosing instead to pull her hair up in a messy bun. She takes a deep breath and then laughs softly to herself. Quinn being here doesn’t change anything. She’s being ridiculous.

At the table, she spends her time talking to a lot of people. Brittany keeps shoving different glasses of wines into her hands, insisting that she try each one. She makes small talk with the dancers Brittany’s introduced her to over the years, even allows herself to dance briefly with the always charming Orlando when she asks him to teach her some of the foot work she was enamoured with from the show. It isn’t until an hour or so later that she plops down next to Quinn and they both look so wonderfully buzzed that it makes Rachel smile wider.

“How have you been,” Rachel asks, propping her head up on the palm of her hand.

Quinn shrugs, tilts her head from side to side. “I can’t really complain.” She reaches into the bread basket at the center of the table and breaks apart a roll, handing half to Rachel. “I’m cohead of my department now.”

Rachel perks up at that, taking Quinn’s hand in hers excitedly. “That’s fantastic! Congratulations, Quinn!”

Quinn laughs and rolls her eyes. “I mean, it’s no lead spot on a CBS primetime show,” she pokes and Rachel shakes her head, finds herself rolling her eyes too.

“Let’s just agree we are  _ both _ doing well in our respective fields.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Quinn says, picking up her glass of wine. Rachel takes a bite of her bread, turning to look for her own glass before realizing she doesn’t have one. Her brow ruffles but Quinn just takes her hand and taps Rachel’s nails against the glass in a faux cheers. Quinn drinks a little before handing it off for Rachel. She grins as she brings the glass up to her lips.

“Are you still with-” Rachel’s memory is a little foggy and she curses herself for not remembering the name before starting this sentence. Quinn shakes her head before she can pull the name from her brain, saving her the trouble and embarrassment. “You two were together a while,” Rachel says gently.

Quinn’s face darkens a little. “Yeah, about three years.” Quinn tries to force a smile and Rachel thinks there may be something genuine there. She just doesn't know Quinn well enough anymore to be sure. “We just wanted different things in life. A split was inevitable. Better to part before we needed lawyers,” Quinn finishes with a wry smile.

Rachel sighs softly. “Quinn.”

“What about you,” Quinn cuts in before Rachel can continue. If they were closer, she’d say something. She'd tell Quinn how sad she thinks it is that Quinn ends happiness before she can get hurt. How she should just give things a try, people change and grow and god, there are so many wonderful things out there if Quinn followed her heart and not her head. 

But then again, Rachel loves so hard and fast that she’s been in so many relationships over the years, she's nearly lost count. Maybe one way isn't better than the other. 

“I'm not seeing anyone, no.” She picks at the bread in her hand just to have something to do. Quinn eyes her over the rim of her glass of water and Rachel can feel herself flush.

It's been a few years since they've done this. A few years without seeing each other, a few years of relationships for the both of them. But the pull is still there, an infatuation Rachel’s sure neither can explain. A want to turn their  _ almost _ into something tangible.

Santana drapes herself in the seat on the other side of Quinn. “I see you two have resumed your eye fucking now that you're both single,” she says directly.

Quinn turns to chastise her friend, sputtering out some sort of excuse, while Rachel merely laughs. “Oh, come on, Quinn. It's not like it's not true,” Rachel says, amused at the way Quinn counters the blush that creeps on her cheeks with a scowl.

“HA,” Santana shouts. Quinn groans, face contorting in annoyance until Santana presses a kiss to Quinn’s cheek. She starts to say something else but then Brittany is pulling Rachel out of her seat and whatever Santana tells Quinn is a mystery. 

“We need more wine,” Brittany tells her, arm slipping comfortably through Rachel’s. “Or champagne. Or both.” She grins down at Rachel, blonde hair falling into her eyes. “Both is always better.” Brittany winks and, oh, Rachel has missed this girl.

They spend more time than necessary at the bar, sampling the alcohol before they settle on anything. Her cheeks hurt from laughing by the time Santana gets to the bar. “Almost everyone else has left,” she says. 

Brittany turns around, surprised. A frown takes place on her face when she notices that only a handful of them are left at the table. “But we-”

“Have been drinking at the bar for almost an hour now,” Santana supplies. Rachel looks down at her watch. That can't be right. “Come on, let's go back to our room.”

Brittany looks torn but Rachel just smiles and hugs her friend. “Lunch before you fly out?” Brittany nods enthusiastically, squeezing Rachel tight. She gives Santana a nod before they go to settle the tab with the bartender. 

At the table, Quinn’s waving to the rest of the parting company. Rachel thinks to flag her down, to give her a proper goodbye. It’d been so nice to see her but Rachel knows they won’t really make an effort to keep in contact and it’ll be years until they see eachother again. It’s a dance they’ve done so well for as long as they’ve known each other.

Quinn’s eyes find her before she even lifts her hand and Quinn strides over to her with a look Rachel hasn't seen since high school. “I'm only in town until tomorrow,” is what Quinn says when she reaches Rachel.

Rachel nods, understanding what Quinn isn’t saying. “Okay.”

\--

Kara sits beside her, cup balancing on her leg and fingers worrying the string that hangs over the side of the mug they're sharing. Her other hand sits firm and reassuring on Lena’s lower back, palm flat against her bare skin when she takes in a deep breath. Lena lets herself sit with hunched shoulders, Kara’s laptop open in front of her. She clicks on the doc Kara’s compiled only after she feels Kara’s nails dip gently into her skin, her voice soft as she releases a gentle I love you.

This is everything Kara discovers about Lena’s birth family:

Keeva O’Bric was born in Waterford, Munster and was 33 years old when she died of pneumonia, an illness that seems so treatable that Lena has a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that that's what took her mother from her. The O’Bric family has a long history that Kara barely put a dent in, for which Lena is thankful. Though the fact that her mother’s family dates back to the early Gaelic era is incredibly fascinating, it is information she can dig through at a different time. It appears her mother was an only child and her grandparents have long since passed. There's nothing particularly notable about her mum until she graduates university ( _ Oxford  _ no less) at 20 with her bachelors in Mathematics and Computer Science, and gets her masters in Engineering the following year. From there it seems several companies took an interest in her due to her degrees, taking Keeva to London and a few places in Germany for work before traveling to the U.S. where she spent time in Gotham before settling in Metropolis at 27. 

It seems Keeva is responsible for a variety of inventions but nothing can be associated directly to her, the companies she worked for claiming rights to everything. Lena knows that if and when she gets curious enough, she could try to dig up blueprints. She pauses and wonders for a brief moment if Kara had come across them already in her search.

Lena clears her throat and scrolls down as Kara leaves a kiss on her shoulder.

There's really nothing more until Lena’s birth and they can both see now why it could never be found before. Lena  _ O’Bric _ was born May 27th at 3:28 in the afternoon at her mother’s apartment. There is no father listed on the birth certificate.

When Lena is five months old, Keeva moves them back to Ireland and then there's nothing more until another birth certificate shows up shortly after Lena turns one. Quinn O’Bric is born, strangely, at 3:28 on the morning of August 11th in Waterford. There's no father listed on that birth certificate either but Kara suspects it’s not Lionel, if only for the fact that she wasn't taken in by the Luthors too.

Lena swallows hard. That's certainly hope anyway.

It's much easier to discover what became of Quinn. A couple, not of Luthor calibre but still well off by normal standards, adopt her and give her the last name of Fabray. It's unclear how they managed to find Quinn but Kara thinks it’s likely their mother knew them. For reasons Kara doesn't discover, they move from Metropolis to a small town in Ohio shortly before Quinn turns 4. 

After that, a wonderfully easy Google search results in a variety of things, information and a wealth of pictures. The girl was a cheerleader and performed in a show choir in high school. Went to Yale and graduated early, getting her masters there too, before moving to Metropolis. It appears she's now cohead of the English department at U.C. Metropolis and nearly done with her Phd.

For at least a few years, Lena lived in the same city as her sister and never even knew it.

“I found a bit more,” Kara murmurs and Lena can feel each movement of Kara’s lips against her skin. “But I didn't want to overwhelm you.”

Lena nods and closes the laptop. She straightens her spine and Kara sits up too at the movement, Lena’s shoulders squaring as she tries to swallow past the lump in her throat. “Well then,” she breathes out slowly. She looks at Kara and the corner of her lips twitch upwards as she looks at the most recent picture of Quinn Kara had been able to find. It's from her school website so it's professionally done and Lena can see the similarities between them. The same bone structure, the strong jaw line, their eyes nearly identical. She thinks there may be a slight difference in their noses but aside from that and Quinn’s blonde hair, they are unmistakably related.  _ Sisters. _

Kara’s hand slips from her back and into Lena’s palm. She holds on, gentle but firm. “How do you feel?”

Lena lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I…” she laughs a little to herself. “I feel I have a better understanding of this muddled accent of mine.” Kara smiles, let's Lena have this moment of superficiality, but there's a hard worry in her eyes that Lena knows she can't escape. With another breath, she finds herself moving closer to touch more of Kara’s skin, her wife warming her easily. “My sister’s name is Quinn.”

Kara pulls Lena into her lap but makes sure she can still keep hold of Lena's gaze. “Do you remember anything? Did anything jump out and jog some memories?”

Lena shakes her head. “No…” Lena closes her eyes and thinks, thinks, thinks, wills herself to remember something more. Most of her memories are clouded, faces and places a little too blurred to recall anything, feelings and garbled sound bites stronger than any one thing. All she comes back with is the only clear memory that's always been there of the time from before she was a Luthor. She remembers sitting in a window seat and looking out at a foggy field, her mother singing somewhere behind her, the feeling of someone being hot on her heels. It’s so faint, so nondescript that Lena’s not entirely sure it’s a real memory or something her mind has made up. Lena sags. “Her name doesn't even sound familiar but I suppose that makes sense.”

Kara’s fingers card through her hair, softly working out any tangle she comes across. “Yeah?”

“Mm, I don't remember calling her by her name. Only scáil.” Kara’s eyebrows wrinkle and Lena squeezes the back of her wife’s neck. “Shadow,” Lena supplies, voice thick and soft, mouth moving like a memory. “It's what my mom called her, because she was always right behind me.” Lena lets out a breath and tucks herself into Kara a little more, letting her arms circle Kara’s waist. “ _ Quinn _ ,” she repeats, lets her tongue get used to the name.

\--

Quinn drums her fingers on her stomach and stares up at the ceiling next to Rachel. They haven’t slept, something Quinn’s sure will bite her in the ass later when she has to deal with the airport, but they also haven’t had sex in- Quinn glances at the clock next to the bed- forty minutes.

Instead they've been talking about nothing of importance. They don't talk about work, they don't talk about family (not that either of them have much), they don't talk about the fact that they've been waiting  _ fifteen years _ to have sex with one another. No, they talk about how Rachel is sure she saw Supergirl last week in line at her favorite Chinese place which leads to Quinn telling the story of when she met Superman last fall when he stopped her office from being destroyed. They talk about food and books and, god, it feels so  _ easy _ . Quinn lets herself card her fingers through Rachel’s hair and ease the knots apart. Quinn lets Rachel play with her free hand, trace the knobs of her knuckles, follow the lines written on her palm. She wonders how long it’s been since Rachel was able to do this, to just be with another person so simply.

Quinn tries not to think about how natural this feels because it makes the years they’ve spent apart seem, well, stupid. Quinn is not an easy person to get along with. It’s a fact about herself that she’s accepted wholeheartedly over the years. Staying away from Rachel save for the scattered moments since high school was because she knows that on a day to day basis, this wouldn’t be good for them. They would fight, she knows they would. Assumes they would anyway, based on the Rachel she remembers. She dismisses all that they’ve found they have in common, chalks it up to knowing this is temporary. If this night was more than just that, Quinn wouldn’t have allowed them to fall into this comfortable state. She thinks of Erin then. How she hasn’t seen them in nearly two years. How she had seen them everyday for three and now they’re not even friends. How she has nothing but memories left of them, how she will have nothing more than that because they had a definitive end, not like her and Rachel. Rachel, who she hasn’t seen in nearly as long, Rachel, who slips back in near seamlessly, pulling Quinn back into this dance like it’s a choreography they can not forget.

Rachel rolls away and stretches, once in the bed and again when she stands. She tosses Quinn a smile, genuine and almost shy and so at odds with how utterly naked Rachel is, and walks to the bathroom.

Her phone chimes next to her head and when Quinn looks at it, there’s an email alert from Shelby. Her thumb hovers over the screen until it goes dark in her hand. She puts the phone back down, rolls away from it for good measure. The real world is starting to creep back in and she’s not ready for that just yet.

The toilet flushes and then the faucet is turned on and off. Rachel slinks back into bed, pulling the comforter over both of them. “When is your flight?”

The real world is coming whether she’s ready or not.

“Two,” Quinn answers. “I have to get back to my classes.”

Rachel raises her head to look at the clock. “Should I head out so you can get some sleep?” Quinn shakes her head, sticks a leg out to tangle with Rachel’s. Rachel smiles and lets her head fall back against her own pillow. “I’m glad I got to see you.”

She knows Rachel doesn’t mean for the words to be charged but Quinn blushes faintly anyway. “Me too.” Quinn licks her lips, lets her eyes fall closed for just a moment. “Do you keep in contact with Shelby?” Quinn curses herself. She doesn't want to make this moment heavy, doesn't want to make this moment seem like more than it is. She and Rachel are not friends. They never have been. But this curiosity gets the better of her sleep deprived brain, of her loose tongue.

Rachel’s fingers grip just a little tighter at the blanket. She nods. “She’s been a nice…” Quinn looks at Rachel search for the right word, worry creasing the skin between her eyebrows. “Mentor,” is what Rachel settles on, nodding a little once the word leaves her mouth. Rachel stares at Quinn for a moment before rolling onto her back, looking up at the ceiling. “I haven’t seen her much lately.” A beat, then, “I don’t think it’s good for Beth.”

Quinn’s breath hitches in her throat, heart suddenly thumping a little too loud in her ears.

She mimics Rachel’s position and forces her mouth to stay shut.

\--

Kara’s gone to go put out a literal fire and Lena finds herself unable to fall back asleep.

She tosses and turns and curses the mattress when she pulls herself up and out of it, has half a mind to curse the thing contorting her body from the inside but bites her tongue, guilt rushing over her in a second. She looks down her body, wiggles her toes though she cannot see them past her swollen breasts and stomach. Hands palm her belly, applying the slightest bit of pressure. There's nothing in response, their son clearly able to sleep amid his mother's own discomfort. Lena lets out a noisy breath through her nose as she rubs her stomach gently for a moment. She thinks, not for the first time this pregnancy, of what it’d be like to have her mother here. Were her mother’s pregnancies this uncomfortable? Did she ever look at her body and curse Lena? Curse Quinn? Did she ever feel like she made a mistake?

Lena paces, first down the hallway then back in the bedroom, rubbing absently at her back as she looks out at the cityscape their bedroom windows present. The clock on Kara’s bedside reads 3:52. Her phone is still charging next to the bed. She  _ shouldn’t _ call because it is an absurd hour of the morning. Lena herself doesn’t  _ want _ to be up right now and inflicting that on someone else seems cruel. She finds herself picking up her phone anyway.

It only rings twice before a “What’s wrong,” flitters through. Eliza sounds incredibly awake despite the fact that normal people should be sleeping right now.

“Nothing serious,” Lena says, voice quiet and coated in a fresh wave of guilt. “I just can’t sleep.”

Eliza hums and Lena can hear the other woman settle back beneath her covers. Her mother in law doesn't ask why Lena chose to call her, no doubt already knows Kara is saving the day somewhere. Instead, Eliza begins telling Lena about how she spent the day baking. She's detailed, describes her thought process in choosing her flavors, the mistake she made of adding too much fennel to the loaf of bread she had spent the whole morning making. “It's easy to make mistakes with things you've always done,” Eliza says softly. She asks Lena if she remembers the bread Kara had made at thanksgiving, tells her that she tried to replicate the intricate braiding on the loaf that Kara did but that it didn't look quite as nice as their girl’s. 

Lena’s breathing is steady and she finds herself relaxing the more Eliza talks. She sits down on the edge of the bed, leaning her elbows on her thighs and lengthening her back. Her body cracks and pops in certain places and Eliza lets silence sit between them for a moment. “You know,” she starts gently. “I had morning sickness my entire pregnancy with Alex.”

Lena laughs and groans at the same time. “I would- I don't even know  _ what  _ I'd do if I still had to deal with that.”

“Oh, you'd suffer but you'd do it wonderfully,” Eliza says. Lena can hear Eliza’s smile in her words. “What's bothering you tonight? Is it heartburn? Because I told Kara to stop tempting you with fried potatoes.”

A grin pulls at Lena’s lips. “No, no, thankfully no heartburn. And it's my own fault. I crave the potatoes even though I know I'll pay for it later. Kara just wants me happy.” Lena sits up straighter, wants so desperately to crawl back into bed. She could try, she thinks, to lay back down, but the mere thought of it has her tensing once more. “I can't get comfortable… And I-” she laughs a little, but it’s tired. “I miss my mom. I know it's silly. I don't remember her enough to really miss  _ her… _ I miss the  _ idea _ of her.” She doesn't say it but she thinks she might miss Lillian too. They never had a proper mother-daughter relationship, not a healthy one, but Lillian had gone through this. Her body changed shape unconsciously, held another heartbeat inside of her. Did Lillian’s body rebel like this too? Is that why they never had another? Or was it so perfect, was  _ Lex  _ so perfect, that Lillian was left completely content?

Lena chews on her lip and shakes her head of the thought.

Eliza releases a soft, knowing sigh. “I'm sorry, sweetheart.” Lena stands up again, even as she hears Eliza settling down on the other end of the line. She finds herself walking back to the windows, resting her forehead on the cool glass, waiting to see her wife coming home. “I can't erase the yearning you have for her, even if it is just an idea of her in your head… I can't replace her. I'm sorry I can't do that for either of you,” Eliza says gently and Lena aches for her mother in law, wonders if this feeling, this thought, of not being what her daughters need despite trying so hard, hurts Eliza as much as Lena imagines it does. “But I can promise to be here for you as long as I am able.”

Lena swallows the lump in her throats and a smile tugs at her cheeks. “I know you will,” she says softly. “Any advice on how to get some sleep?”

“None that I think you'd enjoy hearing from your mother in law.” Eliza answers cheekily.

\--

She debates not looking at the email until she gets back home. She's tired, she's sore, she's about to be crammed in a plane for the next few hours next to someone she doesn't know. Reading the email would only serve to make her even more anxious, more irritated.

Quinn glances at her watch and then at the board a few feet away that lists the arrivals of each plane in this terminal. She still has at least forty minutes until her plane gets here.

With a heavy sigh, Quinn opens her email, taps on the reply from Shelby. She skips the pleasantries completely, scrolling until she sees Beth’s name.

_ Beth is in a constantly moody, emotional state. I regret saying that her infancy was the hardest part of parenting. Teenagers are a completely different beast that you'd think I'd know how to handle, teaching them for so long. She's turning away from things that once made her happy and brought us close, more snappy than she was at two, and talks to me about as much as she talks to Puck. You're right that this age is hard. Hard for  _ her. _ I've brought up talking to someone, a therapist or counselor. She reacted like I was trying to send her to a convent. _

_ But I'm not too worried. She is a teenager and all the books and my own therapist tells me this is normal. I just have to wait for her to come to me. _

_ Please don't feel as though you cannot contact her if you'd like. I don't want you to live with the feelings I did, you know that. Perhaps it's a good thing that she's reaching out to you… At least she feels she has an outlet with you, if I'm being a horrible beast :) _

Quinn closes the app and then puts her phone to sleep. She gathers her things and walks over to the nearest bar, settling down at a table where she can still keep an eye on her gate. She orders a scotch, neat.

The whole reason she emailed Shelby is because she was worried about Beth. There was no other motivation. Quinn simply wanted to make sure the girl wasn’t in danger and here Shelby is assuring Quinn that there is no reason to worry. This is  _ normal.  _ Quinn doesn't need to dig any deeper. She can just return to the slightly estranged relationship the three of them have fostered over the years.

The scotch is set on her table with a smile and Quinn is reminded too much of her parents. They thought she was fine too, when she was 15.

Quinn exhales noisily, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “Damn it,” she murmurs. It doesn't make sense to her that Beth wants to reach out to her. Quinn doesn't find it wholly unwelcome but it surprises her nonetheless. She thought she had more time. More time to grow up herself, to prepare for the questions Beth has, to step into a roll she hasn't been sure she's wanted. She didn't think Beth would have questions until she started her own family and Quinn realizes now how utterly idiotic it was to think that. Why wouldn't Beth’s interest spike when she reached the age Quinn was when she had her?

She takes a long sip of her drink and considers that maybe Beth’s motivation isn't born entirely out of curiosity. Shelby had said Beth was pulling away from her. Perhaps this was a way of acting out? Did Beth  _ want _ Shelby to know she contacted Quinn? Was she hoping it'd hurt her mom? Quinn knows she can be cruel but she never considered that would be something she would pass down to Beth.

Quinn takes her phone out of her pocket and gets as far as writing ‘Hi’ in an email to Beth before hearing Santana’s voice in the back of her head.

_ “You're going to  _ email _ a  _ fifteen _ year old?!” _

Quinn groans and deletes the draft.

It's for the best. She's not in the right frame of mind to deal with this right now. 

She finishes her drink and tries to convince herself she'll be ready to deal with this tomorrow.

\--

Lena has always loathed board meetings. But board meetings while pregnant are torture.

She’s always had a slight disadvantage being a woman in these meetings, CEO or not, and adding the pregnancy makes her even more susceptible to being called irrational. Not to mention the execs she meets who think it's okay to touch her stomach without asking.

Lena pushes open the door to her office and finds the couch occupied by Kara and Jess. Their laughter turns to smiles in her direction and Lena feels a little bit of stress leave her shoulders. There's food spread out on the table and she doesn't even know who to thank for the fact that there's an ungodly amount of chicken on the salad marked with an L. “Long meeting,” Kara asks, starting to get up until Jess urges her to stay sitting. 

“If one more old white man touches my stomach,” Lena starts with a sigh. Jess chuckles and drops the pair of slippers she’s taken to keeping for Lena at Lena’s feet. “Thank you, dear.” Steadying herself with a hand to Jess’ shoulder, Lena kicks off her heels, not caring about the slight moan she releases once her feet fall flat for the first time since six am. She gives Jess a smile in thanks and tells her to leave the shoes where they landed. “You'll eat with us, won't you?”

Jess rolls her eyes and takes what has become her usual spot across from them. Lena frowns at the fact that it means Jess has to sit on the floor. It didn't matter terribly before the pregnancy, when the three of them would all sit on the ground around the table if they all caught lunch together. Lena makes a mental note to get some new furniture to accommodate more than two people.

Kara extends a hand to Lena, gives Lena's Palm a kiss before helping her settle onto the couch. “How's work, darling?” 

“So much fun,” Kara groans. “I just love covering what the right wing crazies have to say about aliens.”

Lena presses a kiss to Kara’s cheek sympathetically, gives her knee a tight squeeze. 

They eat with nice conversation flowing easily until Jess mentions that she finally finished the background check on one Quinn Fabray.

Kara still beside her and she can feel the other women’s eyes focused on her but Lena continues stabbing at her salad like her heart isn't seizing the tiniest bit. She's not sure why she pretends with Kara here. “And?”

“Everything checks out.” Jess fishes a chip out of the bag she's sharing with Lena but doesn't eat it. 

Kara’s hand finds its way to the small of Lena’s back and Lena pushes into the touch, breathing in time with the gentle but firm tap of Kara’s index finger. They're both being so tender with her, so polite, and though it warms her heart, it also ignites a small irritation. “For god’s sake, say something one of you.” Half of Kara’s lips twist into a grin while Jess sputters through a few different sounds before taking a large bite of her sandwich. Lena glares, a slight playful glint undermining the action.

“Well, my love,” Kara starts, “have you made any more progress on the letter you wanted to write?”

Lena groans. She's spent an obscene amount of time trying to craft a letter to her sister. It seems that that's all her free moments have been filled with in the week since Kara gave her all the information she could find on her birth family. Any idle moment at work, any sleepless night, is spent writing a letter, either physically or mentally. She has no less than ten saved word documents on her computer, double that amount of hastily handwritten drafts scattered around her office and home. No matter how many times she strings together sentences, picks different words to say the same thing, she's never satisfied with the outcome. Too little, too much. Too formal, too blase. There's been no medium that Lena can find.

Kara’s heard most of this crazed rambling and she saves Jess from being subjected to it too, simply sighing out, “no.”

Jess frowns. “I could draft up something if you’d like,” she ventures carefully.

Kara wraps her arm snug around Lena’s hips, bringing them closer together. “I offered to do that too,” Kara says, voice laced with a hint of mirth.

“You both make me feel so confident in my writing skills,” Lena murmurs dryly, setting her salad down on the table and now Kara does laugh.

“Well, it has taken you a week to write a letter.”

Lena rolls her eyes and jabs Kara in the stomach which only makes her wife laugh harder. She turns her attention to Jess. “Jess, please make sure Mrs. Danvers is taken off the all access list.”

Kara lets out an indignant “Hey!” at the same time Jess tosses her head back with a laugh. Lena smirks but it's short lived, giving way easily to a sigh. “This is something I should write myself. We all know that,” Lena says, picking at the ruching along the side of her dress just so that she has something to do with her hands.

Jess and Kara exchange a look before Jess stands, taking her sandwich with her. “I'm going to clear the rest of your day,” she says around a bite. Lena starts to protest (they have a board meeting at the end of the week. She can't afford to fall behind a day) but Jess is already half way out the door, leaving the duo on the couch with a smile over her shoulder.

“You don't pay her enough,” Kara says lightly and Lena sags fully into her wife.

“Really, she deserves my salary.” Lena pulls her legs onto the couch, not caring that her dress rides up to an inappropriate level for work, even going as far as inching it up more until it just sits snuggly under her stomach and around her hips. After all, she knows that Jess won't let anyone in without her permission. Kara delights at the new skin revealed and Lena smiles when Kara’s hand comes to caress her thigh. “What do you think my love?”

Kara hums, fingers following the little stretch marks that have deepened since Lena entered her second trimester. “I don't think you'll be happy with any letter you write.” Lena looks at her, surprised. “For starters, it's not exactly the easiest thing to do. I mean, there's no real way to finesse ‘Hi I'm your sister you may not remember!’ I mean, that's absurd no matter how you twist it.”

Lena’s face softens into a smile. “I'm sure you’d write it wonderfully.”

“You're just saying that because you're my wife,” Kara says before tilting her head to the side. “Honestly, I've tried starting something for you and I don't think they're any better than the attempts you've shown me.”

Lena disagrees but doesn't voice it because she knows there'll be no winner and instead they'll fall into a rabbit hole of complementing one another. Instead she lets her head fall to Kara’s shoulder and counts the time between the kicks their baby gives to her stomach. “Will you pick the one I send?”

“Of course.” Kara’s hand rises to meet Lena’s on her belly and Lena lets herself forget everything but the feeling of Kara, warm and strong and present beside her, their son moving beneath her skin to press against their hands.

\--

Her veggies are simmering in the pan when her mom calls. She's been back in Metropolis for a few days now but she hasn't gotten around to catching up with her mom. Too many papers to grade, too much time ignoring the feeling that she should be trying to contact Beth. Quinn shakes her head and turns down her music with a smile before accepting the call. “Hey,” she says around a bite of raw carrot. “You’re on speaker.”

“Hi, sweetie.” Judy’s voice is warm but there's a hint of fatigue to it. Quinn doesn't doubt that her mom had a long day negotiating sales. “Are you with the girls?”

“No,” Quinn says, adding a little bit more olive oil to the pan. She takes a step back when the oil pops. “They’re making up for the last few months apart.”

Judy laughs, light and warm. “Sounds like them.” Quinn stirs at her food and she can hear her mom moving around too, no doubt in her own kitchen, preparing dinner for her and Michael. “Did you have a nice trip?”

Quinn presses a hip into the counter. “It was good. Great to be somewhere without snow.” She takes a breath, lets herself think, briefly, of talking about Beth. To tell her mom that she’s so confused, so lost, so worried and unsure. The words rise up in her throat, every insecurity a taste on her tongue and Quinn takes another bite of carrot to swallow it all back down. Beth is untouchable between them. It’s safer that way. This way, at least Quinn still has a relationship with Judy.

Another deep breath and she changes the subject. “You’ll never guess the letter I got today.”

Judy hums. “Was it from your father?”

A laugh bursts out of her, untempered, before she can stop it. “Be serious, Mom.”

“Oh, come on, that was a fair guess! You set it up to be something ridiculous.” There’s a faint noise, Judy’s words clear but a little muffled and if Quinn listens hard enough, she can hear the sloshing of running water over dishes. “What was this letter then?”

Quinn turns off the burner, moves the pan to the other side of the stovetop. “You know those spam letters from Nigerian princes or long lost relatives?”

Her mom cuts in and Quinn can tell even before Judy says anything that there’s a playful tint to her mom’s face. “Was it Frannie then?”

Lips quirking in an amused smile, Quinn says, “Well, that’s a closer guess.” She glances across the kitchen to where her mail and the letter sit in a pile on the table. “This person thought I’d believe  _ Lena Luthor _ of L Corp is my long lost sister.” With the veggies no longer singing, Quinn can hear something slip from Judy’s hands, the abrupt way the faucet gets shut off.

“What?”

“Isn’t that so absurd,” Quinn laughs. She pushes off from the counter and crosses the room to the letter. “It was even sent certified mail.” Plucking the letter from its place, Quinn clears her throat. “It starts with a summary of who she is, like there’s really someone, especially in Metropolis who  _ doesn’t _ know who Lena Luthor is. But this is where I really lost it. ‘I recently decided to look into my parentage and have discovered that we are in fact, related. I apologize for how blunt this next part is but I can think of no other way to say it. You, Quinn, are my sister. Though you may not recall, our mother raised us herself in Waterford, Ireland for the first few years of our lives.’ This person  _ clearly _ looked up that I specialize in Irish literature.” Quinn lets out an amused sigh. “The things people think to do…”

Quinn lets the paper fall back to the table and gets back to her dinner. Her mother still hasn’t said anything but Quinn can still her breathing. “Hey everything okay?”

“Yeah,” but Judy sounds unsure. Quinn clicks off the speaker and holds her phone to her ear just as Judy coughs. “Did they ask for any money? Isn’t that usually how those things go?”

“I’m not actually sure. I stopped reading after that. Besides, posing as a Luthor and then asking for money seems preposterous.” Quinn sighs. “I suppose people can be that idiotic though.”

It’s quiet on the other end for a long moment before Judy asks, “Did they send any proof?”

Quinn looks back at the letter, the thick stack of papers she didn’t even bother looking at crushing the weight of the envelope they sit on. Her heart starts beating faster, a heavy thud that almost echoes in her ears. Licking her lips and trying to swallow past the growing lump in her throat, Quinn takes a deep breath. “Why did you ask me that?” Judy stays silent again and  _ no _ , this cannot be happening. This letter is a joke. She laughed at it and rolled her eyes the moment she started reading it. Why isn’t Judy laughing with her? “ _ Mom _ .”

There’s a sniff from Judy’s side and Quinn tries picturing her mom now. Tries picturing her at the sink of the house she’s lived in the past six years, pictures her in jeans and a blouse and a cardigan, pictures her with her hair down and curled like she’s taken to wearing it. But all she can see is her mother in her childhood home, glass of scotch in her hand and a hard stare at the floor as Russell kicks Quinn out.

This isn’t happening.

“There may be some truth to the letter,” Judy says quietly.

Quinn lets out strangled, choked off laugh. “ _ What _ ,” she says even though she knew something like this was coming. “What do you mean some?” There’s a creak on the other end, a sign Judy is sitting down somewhere and Quinn-

Her entire body is shaking but she can’t find it in her move, to sink down to the ground where she can rest. She lays her palm flat on the counter, leans her whole weight into it and begs herself not to throw up, not yet, not when Judy still won’t answer her.

“I can’t attest to Lena’s personal background, Quinn.”

“What are you saying to me,” Quinn nearly yells. She sounds too much like her father but she can’t stop herself.

She thinks her mother might be crying but all she can hear is her own labored breathing. “I didn’t give birth to you, Quinn.”

Quinn opens her mouth to say something, to scream maybe, but nothing comes out. She just gapes and stares at the letter that’s supposed to be fake and no, this couldn’t have actually just happened. She’s dreaming. She must be.

“Quinn-”

Her stomach lurches at the sound of her mother’s voice and Quinn ends the call as fast as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr @idontneedtobeforgiven


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! This chapter doesn't include nearly as much as I wanted it to but I really am trying to stick to monthly updates and felt there was enough here to post. I'm not sure how I feel about it but I hope everyone enjoys!
> 
> *Just a reminder: I play fast and loose with Glee's canon. In this story, the Lucy storyline never happened

Lena wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, sparing no grimace at the amount of sweat that's gathered at her hairline, smirking instead at the way Kara falls from her forearms and lands with her cheek to the sheet. Lena gives Kara’s hip a squeeze in warning before she slowly pulls out. “Well,” Lena drawls, dropping down on her back next to Kara, “this certainly is not going to help me get sleepy.”

Kara laughs, winded, next to her. “I dunno, seems to be working for me.” Kara’s still bent in half, butt in the air despite the fact that her legs still quake a little. “How's your back?”

Lena wiggles her hips a little, goes through a whole body stretch. “Surprisingly good,” she decides. She looks to her sides at the harness they bought specifically for when her belly got bigger. The strap around her hips is thick enough to give her the support she needs and it's comfortable to the point where it doesn't even feel like she's wearing anything, save for the weight of the dildo between her legs. 

Kara grins at her like a dope, hair falling in a mess of knots around her face and Lena finds herself hopelessly, happily, lost in this moment. Her body feels great, so at ease that it almost feels as though she's never been so comfortable before. She feels so much love for the woman next to her that it seems like her chest will burst and she welcomes it greedily.

There's no anguish or confliction plaguing her. No thoughts of sisters and family and the ghosts that haunt her. There is nothing but pure love in this moment, with Kara looking at her like she's responsible for the sun rising each morning and their baby kicking strong and steady. 

She is absolutely drunk on the lust and passion and love coursing through her and she doesn't even care.

Kara stretches out and cuddles up to Lena, leg hooking around one of Lena’s. Kara sneaks her hand beneath the harness, deft fingers slipping and circling Lena’s clit. Lena releases a moan mixed with a sigh before Kara leans down to kiss her.

Right now, she thinks everything might end up okay. After all, she has Kara.

\--

There is only one person with a key to her house and when she hears the front door open and close, Quinn’s whole body tenses. There is a reason she didn't call Santana yesterday. She's not ready to talk about this, not even sure she physically  _ can _ . The thought of saying out loud what her m-. Quinn digs her nails into her palms. The thought of repeating the conversation makes her feel sick to her stomach. She's not ready to see  _ anyone _ . She has half a mind to tell Santana to leave but she can't get her mouth to work. Her tongue feels heavy and her mind is moving too slow. “Care to explain,” Santana calls from somewhere inside the apartment, “why I got a call from your mom this-”

She doesn't hear the rest of it. Quinn rolls over and throws up off the side of her bed. “What the fuck,” Santana asks from the doorway. Quinn leaves her head hanging, hair sticking to the slick covering her mouth. It takes her three deep breaths before she manages to look up. For a long moment they stare at eachother. Santana looks at her, face more confused than disgusted before disappearing to the en-suite and coming back with a handful of towels. Santana doesn't do a particularly apt job at cleaning up, just sort of throws the towels on the mess and calls it good. A hand is pressed to her forehead, her cheek, and Santana’s face crinkles in concern when she finds no sign of a temperature. A softness not often seen takes hold of Santana’s features as she carefully pushes Quinn’s hair out of her face, not at all affected by the stench currently surrounding them.

It's been so long since Santana has given her this look and Quinn is reminded too much of things she'd rather forget. A sob tears from her throat and the tears she managed to ward off all night finally fall. Santana is there in an instant, arms circling Quinn’s shoulders and pulling her close. It's awkward, Quinn half off the bed, Santana now kneeling in the towel covered vomit, but Santana is holding her so tight, has her pressed so close that Quinn doesn't feel like she’ll be left to fall. 

“It's going to be okay,” Santana tells her, voice firm and at odds with the delicate way she looked before holding Quinn. 

Quinn thinks she's been fed that line too many times.

\--

Lena stands at the stove, carefully pouring pancake batter onto the griddle, her smile growing a little when Kara drops blueberries onto the pancake in the shape of a smiley face. “So,” Kara says, fingers working to smooth out the tangles she created when they were having sex. “What do you think about taking a vacation after the crib gets delivered this week?”

She smirks over her shoulder. “Is Ireland the destination you have in mind?” Kara smiles and her cheeks take on a light shade of pink. 

There's family there. They're a little removed of course, cousins from a great aunt, but they're alive and still in the same town Lena had lived in with her mother when she was young. Lena wonders if she's met them before, wonders if they even remember her. She lets out a little sigh, rolls her shoulders back before she flips the pancakes. “I'm not sure it'd be very polite to just drop in on them.”

Kara hums, conceding, and Lena feels Kara lightly bouncing on the balls of her feet. “We  _ could _ still take a trip regardless,” Kara starts. “Maybe swing back through Brighton? Or take a long weekend in London?”

Lena smiles. “Darling, that sounds like the  _ best _ idea.” In her excitement, Kara pulls a little sharply at the last tangle she was working on smoothing and Lena hisses, a grumbly chuckle following quick. “Goodness, Kara, it was your idea.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kara says. She kisses Lena's scalp but adds a teasing pinch to Lena’s side too for the sass. “You do want to see them, don't you?”

Lena nods and turns to make sure Kara can see her face. She wants Kara to know how absolutely sure of this she is. In a way, she's almost more at ease with contacting this family that she's found. It helps, Lena thinks, that these people are not ones she's missed. She couldn't have. She didn't know they existed. When it came to her family before the Luthors, there were only memories of her mom and her sister ( _ Quinn _ , she corrects herself). If they meet and discover there isn't much more in common than blood, Lena won't lose any sleep over it. All she wants is a little more information about her mum and these people, her  _ family,  _ can give that to her, if they're willing.

Kara smiles softly and Lena turns her attention back to the pancakes. “They had a Facebook right?” She stacks four pancakes then scoops them onto the plate on the counter. She doesn't see it but she knows Kara’s nodded. “After we eat, we can work on typing something up?”

“You don't want to send a letter like before?” Kara starts gathering her hair back, separating the strands into two sections, and then separating one half into even smaller sections.

“I don't think we’ll have the time to wait for international mail if you'd like to go on vacation by the end of the week,” Lena answers cheekily and pours the rest of the batter onto the griddle.

“We don't  _ have _ to go this week…” Kara starts crisscrossing the hair she's gathered between her fingers. “We could wait until next week. Or the week after. There's not really any rush. Well-” Lena’s not sure how she manages it, but Kara holds the half done braid in one hand, the other coming to rub at Lena’s stomach. “Maybe a small rush. Or at least a window in which a vacation overseas is not possible.”

Kara goes back to weaving Lena’s hair as Lena considers waiting a little longer. Work will only get busier for her the closer she gets to her due date because she’ll be trying to get as much done as possible before her leave. She starts seeing her therapist again at the beginning of next month, though that would be easy enough to reschedule. Lena is already anticipating being told to explore her newfound family so perhaps getting this meeting underway would help therapy go a little smoother. “I don't want to wait,” Lena decides with a small, sure nod of her head. She turns the griddle off as she flips the final pancakes and turns to look at Kara. Her wife pouts, makes a small noise of protest as she's forced to let go of Lena’s hair and leave it unfinished, but Lena simply presses a kiss to the corner of Kara’s lips. “We should take some time for us, before I get too big and crabby.”

Her stomach brushes then pushes against Kara’s as she wraps her arms around Kara’s ribs. Kara takes the opportunity to take Lena’s hair back into her fingers and continues where she left off amid a handful of kisses. “No such thing as too big or crabby, Lena.” Lena lets a laugh catch in her throat and Kara narrows her eyes. “That wasn't any sort of challenge either.” 

Lena quirks an eyebrow before laughing and letting her forehead drop to Kara’s mouth. They stay intertwined while Kara finishes up the intricate braids, the pancakes momentarily forgotten. It's so wonderful to just stay like this, Kara there to help Lena hold up her physical and emotional weight. She finds a peace growing in her chest, even as her mind starts kicking back into its usual overdrive. Her fingers press into the contours of Kara’s back and finds herself matching Kara’s breathing so that they move seamlessly. “Darling,” she asks, voice slightly muffled as she turns to scratch her nose on Kara’s shoulder. “Have I been neglectful?”

Kara turns to press a kiss to the side of Lena’s head before reaching to take the hair tie from her own hair out. “Neglectful how?” Kara’s hair falls and cloaks Lena as she ties off Lena’s braids.

“I've been so wrapped up in all of this family business that I'm afraid I haven't checked in with you,” Lena says, raising up to look at her wife who rolls her eyes fondly.

“Babe, we talk everyday about important things.” Kara fiddles with some strands at the side of Lena's head, tucks an errant piece below the braid delicately. Her hands press each braid to make sure they're secure and smiles once she's satisfied.

Lena huffs a little, brow furrowing as a frown fights at her lips. “You have a habit of putting others before yourself. I just want to make sure you're not bottling up because you don't think your feelings are important right now.” Lena watches as Kara’s face flutters through a few different emotions before settling with a timid smile and soft eyes. “Got it a bit on the nose, didn't I?”

Kara hums and nods. “How are you so good at that?”

“I'm your wife,” Lena answers. “It's my job to know you.” Kara laughs lightly, leans down to nuzzle Lena’s nose with her own. “Talk to me, love.”

A heavy breath passes through Kara’s lips and she shrugs the best she can with Lena in her arms. “It’s nothing we haven’t talked about before,” Kara admits. Lena fingers the hem of Kara’s underwear, hooks her thumb beneath the band and waits for Kara to continue. Kara smiles, tentative. “We could be absolutely awful at this.”

Lena nods. “We could.”

Kara tightens her grip on Lena’s hips and she licks her lips, swallowing around an obvious lump in her throat. “And the fact that we are not confident and have only four months to get confident is terrifying.”

Again, Lena agrees and Kara deflates just a little. Lena can sense the shift between them, with her becoming the one to support their weights now. “But you know what, darling?”

“What,” Kara croaks, not looking away from Lena even as her eyes start to gloss over with worried tears.

“We’ve got each other,” she whispers, sure. Lena noses at the corner of Kara’s lips, trying to inch a smile onto her wife’s face to match her own. Kara nods carefully, and the smile doesn’t catch but Kara does dip forward, pulling Lena’s breath from her lungs with a kiss.

Kara whimpers and Lena’s heart swells, feeling them settle into place.

\--

The first thing Quinn does when she manages to stop crying, is clean up the throw up Santana didn’t.

She watches pointedly from the bed as Quinn, with her hands and knees on the floor, scrubs at her carpet with a brush and dish soap. Santana wrinkles her nose, offended by the mixture of regurgitated food, bile, and green apple Dawn. Quinn hasn’t said anything regarding this… episode, and Santana has half a mind to text Judy. Or to snoop through Quinn’s things. With a glance at her watch, she decides to give Quinn only five more minutes of angry cleaning and deflection before she takes matters into her own hands. They’re adults now, or at least something close to it, and Santana can’t handle this throwback to teenage Quinn.

For a moment, she thinks this is about Beth. Maybe something  _ was _ wrong, maybe something horrible happened, and guilt starts to creep into her stomach. “Quinn,” she says, stern. Santana will not let her mind run rampant when Quinn is perfectly capable of opening her mouth and  _ talking _ . 

Quinn leans back onto her calves and uses her clean hand to push her hair out of her face. “On the table,” is all Quinn says. Santana has to force herself not to roll her eyes.

This damn woman has written papers upon papers upon  _ papers _ , and yet she can’t formulate her own life for shit.

Santana finds the stack of mail Quinn was probably referring to and she’s expecting to find some sort of crumpled up paper but all she finds are circulars, a bill, and a neatly handwritten letter with  _ Lena Luthor _ as the letterhead. Her head cocks to the side. Her eyebrows drop as she reads it from top to bottom once, twice,  _ three _ times before it sinks in.

She pulls out a chair and sits, pushing all the other mail away and sets the letter to the side as she picks up the thick envelope with what  _ Lena Luthor _ has said contained proof of the claims she made in her letter. It’s ridiculous, Santana thinks, because there’s no way this shit can be true. Quinn has already been through too much. She’s not allowed anymore fuckery, not if Santana has anything to say about it.

Quinn doesn’t make a sound behind her but Santana knows she’s there, can feel her watching. “Go shower,” Santana instructs. “I’m going to figure this out.”

“It’s true,” Quinn says, emotionless. “She told me it was.”

Santana turns. Quinn stands there with her hands at her side, back straight as an arrow, hair in a fucked up ponytail and hips covered in a pair of laundry day underwear. She’s an absolute mess but her face is blank, expressionless, and Santana does her best to glare at Quinn. “Go clean yourself up.” Santana cracks her neck and returns to the papers in front of her, a birth certificate staring back at her. “I’m going to figure this out and we’ll go from there.”

“San-” A fight, a tired one but a fight nonetheless, creeps into the syllable of her name. Quinn will do her absolute best to push all this away, to ignore the storm of emotions filling her up and choking her slowly. Santana knows Quinn will let this kill her if given the option.

She pushes away from the table, crosses the floor to where Quinn stands in three strides. “Quinn,” Santana nearly growls. Sometimes tough love is the only way to get Quinn to realize she’s worth more than what she resigns herself to. “Get your ass in the shower before I drag you in there myself.”

Quinn blinks and stares at her for a short moment before nodding. “Okay,” she adds and a sigh follows the word as she disappears back to her bedroom.

Santana lets herself deflate, no longer needing to be strong now that she's alone. For a moment she lets herself stand there, lets herself feel a fraction of the confusion she knows her friend is feeling. She gets the urge to call Judy again, except this time she feels like yelling and cursing and - Her breath catches in her throat, sharp and harsh. With a shake of her head, she goes to rummage through her purse for her phone. She needs to approach this as she would her work. She needs to look at everything first before she lets her emotions bleed into everything.

She shoots off a text to let Brittany know she's going to be here for a long while but that Brittany should come over around 6 or 7 with some food. Santana’s certain she can get Quinn somewhat functional by then and that's probably when Quinn will actually give in to the hunger pains.

Next, she finds Quinn’s laptop and brings it with her to the table. She pulls her hair back, takes a deep breath, and dives in.

\--

Kara thinks they may not have thought this all the way through.

The point of building the crib in their bedroom was so that they could still talk while Kara packed their bags. Looking at the size of the crib now, she's worried it won't make it out of the door without doing some damage. “Darling,” Lena says from behind the half assembled crib. “This doesn't seem right.” Lena crawls around to look at the crib head on, eyebrows furrowed. She gives the mattress support a little jiggle. It falls immediately to the floor. Kara watches as Lena’s confusion transforms into anger, wholly unsurprised when Lena throws her screwdriver at the offending metal. “I'm an  _ engineer _ ,” Lena yells and Kara can't fight the laugh that bursts out of her.

“I'm not sure the crib cares about stuff like that,” Kara laughs. Immediately, Lena’s glare is turned on her but it only makes Kara laugh a little more. “Come on, babe. What's the problem?” She settles down next to Lena on the floor, leaning forward to peer at the predrilled holes in the crib frame.

“There is no way that the holes are level with one another. I can only get three in without compromising the frame except that having only three of the bolts in means a certain death for our child,” Lena explains. She drops her head onto Kara’s shoulder. “We clearly have bought a defective crib.”

Kara rolls her eyes because she knows Lena can't see the action. “You just need some more elbow grease.”

“We cannot force the crib together. That's not safe either.”

Rising onto her knees, Kara lifts the metal support to the appropriate height. “Well maybe it will help for me to hold it up while you work on the screws.” Kara catches Lena’s cheek with a kiss as her wife shuffles around her. “We might be awful at the baby part of this but I'm sure we can at least get the materialistic prep down… we can't be  _ that  _ unprepared.” Lena doesn't comment on that, just stays focused on bolting the support to the frame. Kara thinks maybe now would be a good time to tell Lena they should probably move the crib to the nursery before they finish assembling but Lena’s face is pure determination and concentration. Kara can't be the one to pop that bubble.

Lena rounds the final corner, sliding the bolt into the hole with a minimal amount of wiggling. Relief floods onto Lena’s face and in turn, Kara relaxes. Had this not worked, Kara’s sure Lena would have ripped this crib to shreds. “This should not have been so difficult,” Lena grumbles. 

“But yay it's together?”

“We still have to get the last side on.”

Kara sighs and stands, helping Lena to her feet as well. “The sides weren't the problem though,” Kara points out. Lena makes a noise in the back of her throat as she picks up the final piece of the crib. She hands it to Kara without a word and Kara stands there dutifully, moving it higher or lower based on Lena’s instructions. It only takes a minute or so before the crib is complete and when Kara lets go of the wood frame to survey Lena’s work, her wife slides in against her side. “Very well done.”

Lena huffs, puff of air hitting Kara’s neck. “I’m just glad we’re done with it. All we’ve got to do is position it where we want it.” Lena presses a kiss to Kara’s neck then turns to look at their bed. “How's packing coming along?”

Kara’s forehead creases, suddenly regretful at not telling Lena the crib was too big sooner. “I'm not sure it’ll make it through the door.”

“Why would we be taking it out of our room,” Lena asks as she looks back at Kara.

It occurs to them both that they have yet to discuss what they'll do once the baby gets here, not in specific terms anyway. They're fine tuning their birth plan, they're worrying about the overarching task of raising a person, but they have absolutely jumped the infancy plans. “Is,” Kara starts carefully, “he sleeping in here with us?”

Lena pulls away just enough for her to look at Kara head on, folding her arms under her chest. One of her hands comes to rest almost protectively on the side of her swelling stomach. Kara fights a smile at the sight only because Lena nods and Kara can see the hesitancy in the movement. “Did you want him in his room?”

Kara fiddles with her glasses before catching herself. This is just Lena. There's no reason to be nervous. “I just assumed that's where he would be since that's where all his other things are.”

“So in our sleep deprived states you'd like us to walk down the hall to get to our son rather than cross the room,” Lena counters. It's not angry or snide but Kara can tell that this is something Lena cares a lot about, an edge of passion already coating some of her words.

“Won't we have to anyway if we’re changing him in the middle of the night?” Lena considers the point, gives Kara a small nod in concession. She can see Lena rally to make another point so Kara puts her hands on Lena’s biceps, firm but gentle. “I'm not trying to make a case for him to  _ not _ stay with us,” Kara says. She waits until Lena relaxes under her touch to cup her cheeks. “I'm okay with him sleeping in here. I'm okay with  _ all _ his things being in here if that's what you want.” Lena nods again before turning to tuck a kiss into Kara’s palm. “We just didn't talk about this stuff.”

“No, we didn't,” Lena says. “I just assumed we were on the same page but I suppose that's why there's a saying about assuming.”

Kara grins. “Well you're my ass and I love you.”

Lena lets out a bark of laughter, arms finally falling back to her sides. She falls against Kara, holds on to her tight around the middle. “Right back at you.” 

“It's a good thing we’re going to take such a long flight,” Kara muses. “Gives us plenty of time to talk about what we’ve forgotten to talk about.” She hopes too, that a flight spent talking about their son or watching movies together or just sleeping cuddled so close, will stop Lena from thinking about the bigger things. Hopes it'll distract her from any nerves she has about meeting the family they're off to visit, hopes it'll distract her from the fact that Quinn has yet to try and get in contact with her.

Lena hums and nuzzles in closer. “Guess that means we should actually finish packing.”

“Probably.” Neither one of them goes to move away so Kara carefully starts walking Lena back to the bed. “But it can wait. I've got superspeed.”

Lena starts pressing kisses up her neck, under her jaw. “That's how we forget things, darling.”

Kara shrugs. “Ireland has stores and we have money. We’ll be fine.” She kisses Lena through her little laugh. 

“I suppose you're right,” Lena murmurs. The back of her legs must hit the mattress because then Lena is sitting and staring up at Kara with soft, sleepy eyes. “Lay with me?”

Who is Kara to deny such a simple request?

\--

Quinn sits cross legged in the middle of her bed, a stack of papers to her left and a far larger stack to her right, her hands flipping through an essay that she’s finding doesn’t make the minimum page count. She groans, mentally deducting points before she even starts reading the introduction, when her doorbell rings, a short double knock following. Carefully setting her ungraded papers to her bedside table, Quinn makes her way to the front door, unsurprised to see Santana talking with her mailman. “Ms. Fabray.” The mailman gives her a nod and a small smile. Santana already has her package in her hands.

“Hey, babe.” Santana smirks, tucking the box under her arm so she can give Quinn’s ass a swat on the way inside.

Quinn simply rolls her eyes but gives her mailman a small ‘thank you’ before following Santana. “Who’s it from,” she asks, Santana already digging through the junk drawer for the box cutter. Her best friend stays uncharacteristically quiet and Quinn finds herself wishing she hadn’t opened the front door. She sighs. It’s not as though that would’ve stopped Santana anyway.

Quinn moves to get a glass of water, purposefully staying away from the box as Santana empties it. The box itself isn’t terribly big but Quinn is still surprised at everything Santana pulls out. First comes an envelope, no doubt containing some sort of apology from her mo-

The glass slips a little in Quinn’s grip, knocking the bottom tray of the water dispenser. Santana looks up at the noise but Quinn just inches the glass back up, presses harder against the lever for her water.

The letter is followed by a thick book, a knitted mess of green yarn (a blanket, Quinn suspects), and another envelope, this one bigger and a little thicker than the first. She swallows. “That’s it?” Santana holds up the box, shows her it’s empty, and then tosses it down to the floor.

“I’m assuming you’re not going to want to look at this,” Santana says, flicking the first envelope across the bar. She slides the book closer to Quinn and takes it upon herself to go through the larger envelope. Quinn thinks she should be affronted that Santana is going through such personal information first. Quinn is an adult. She is more emotionally stable than she was a few days ago when this bomb was dropped on her, though she’s unsure if it can be classified as stable when she’s been taking her panic attack medication daily. Point of the matter is she should be able to do this on her own, not staying a good foot away like these objects contain the plague. A few pictures fall from Santana’s grip, the people in them unfamiliar, and Quinn feels her stomach start to twist. She  _ should  _ go through all this on her own, but she is infinitely thankful Santana is doing it for her.

Quinn tucks her hair behind her ears, picking up the book Santana deemed [safe enough] for Quinn to look at. It’s fairly weathered, the pages yellowing and curling at the top corner despite the hard cover. The stale smell of the book hits her as she opens it up, finding that the first few pages have been torn out, leaving her with a hand written table of contents. It’s a collection of Celtic mythology, the names of faeries cluing her in quickly. There’s a pair of inscriptions on the inside cover, only the bottom one matching the handwriting on the opposite page.

_ Tuatha Dé Danann _ _ , Keeva _

_ Quinn, _

_ Maimeó tried to convince me we were of Danu. I didn’t believe her until you commandeered this book as your own as soon as you could walk. You looked at it like you already knew its contents. I know you’ll care for it, mo chuisle. _

 

Quinn blinks rapidly, does her best to try and regulate her breathing. She lets her chest, her belly fill with air for ten seconds, exhales for five. She keeps going, repeats, repeats, repeats, until it no longer feels like her heart will burst from her chest. She closes the book and sets it facedown on the counter. Santana hasn’t looked up at her once but she does ask, voice low and steady, “Do you need to pack this up for an hour?”

An hour. Time for her to sit down, to collect herself. No, to steel herself. Because there are pictures sitting on the bar in her kitchen right now of literal strangers who happen to be her family. Pictures that no doubt include a woman that is her  _ mother _ .

Bile rises in her throat but she finds herself shaking her head. “If you give me an hour,” she starts, rounding the corner so that she can sit on the bar stool next to Santana. “I’ll find excuse after excuse to not do this today.”

Santana rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t give you more than a day.”

Quinn shrugs. “I think my new natural state is to throw up at least once a day and I would be petty enough to do it on you if it got you to let me live in denial.”

Santana has the pictures in her hands now, keeping them from Quinn’s eyes as if she would seek them out. “Easiest first.” Santana sets down a picture and Quinn is surprised to realize she’s seen this one before. It’s of her, sitting with her legs under her body in the center of an old loveseat. Her hair, blonder than it is now, sits in twin braids and her Minnie Mouse shirt has an orange stain near the collar. Even though she’s looking down at a book in her lap, it’s clear that baby fat still rounds out her cheeks. She flips it over and sees 10/1997 scrawled in pen at the bottom. She would’ve been three.

She rubs at her forehead in an attempt to soothe the lines that form as she tries to piece together a timeline. “Is this from before?"

“About a month before,” Santana answers.

That doesn’t seem right. Quinn knows this picture. It was in the photo album they kept in their living room. It was in front of her the entire time. Had she ever asked where this was taken? It certainly wasn’t the Fabray house as it didn’t match any of the other pictures she had seen from when they lived in Metropolis. She feels almost stupid now for not asking more questions even though she knows that’s an unfair assessment. Why ask questions when nothing was out of the ordinary?

She holds out her hand for the next picture. She looks a little younger in this one, her hair shorter but still falling wild around her shoulders, flowers tangled up in the strands. Quinn is holding a girl’s- No. This girl has to be Lena. She’s holding  _ Lena’s _ hand, the pair laughing so heartily at something that their eyes are closed. She’s practically tucked in behind Lena, the other girl filling most of the frame, but she looks so natural there that Quinn doesn’t think she was pushed out of the way, but instead chose to stay behind the other girl. Lena holds out a flower stem and that part of the picture is out of focus but Quinn wonders if that was the source of their glee.

She runs a fingernail over Lena’s pink cheeks and then her own, marveling at how similar their faces were even with their baby fat. When she and Santana had compared photos of her and Lena the other night, Quinn hadn’t really seen many similarities. Sure, they had the same basic face shape and strong jaw, but Quinn didn’t see what was so apparent to Santana. This picture on the other hand… Quinn feels there is no denying their relation.

Santana puts a hand on her shoulder, half gripping, half massaging, and Quinn leans into the touch. “We look a lot alike,” she murmurs. Santana scoffs above her but there’s no ire in it.

“Ready to see Keeva?”

She’s not, but Quinn nods anyway.

It’s practically a profile shot, Keeva looking off at something not photographed, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips, and her knuckles propping up her head. Her hair is like Lena’s, dark with wispy curls, her locks pinned back at the side in an attempt to tame them. At first glance, Quinn thinks she looks nothing like this woman. She can see the resemblance between Keeva and Lena but she cannot picture how she fits in with them. Sure, their face shapes are similar but Quinn doesn’t think she could be Keeva’s daughter.

“Look at her lips,” Santana says. “And her nose.” Quinn shifts on the seat and studies Keeva’s features closer as Santana fiddles with her phone. As much as she would like to deny it, Keeva’s nose and her own are near identical. It’s the one feature neither of her parents had and Quinn finally understands that it was because she had her mother’s nose. Keeva’s, not Judy’s. Santana sets her cell down next to the picture, a recentish picture of Lena on the screen. “Lena’s lip is fuller on the bottom. You and Keeva have the same mouth though.” Taking in the sight of the two pictures side by side, Quinn can see where Lena and Keeva don’t share the same features, however few of them there are. “Once you get passed your blonde ass, you look just like them.”

Quinn wants to deny it more, wants to fight this realization that she’s looking at her mother and her sister, she can’t. There are two women who share parts of her face lying on her counter and a weight settles heavy on her chest. The proof had been laid out before. Lena had sent her enough proof that Quinn couldn’t have denied it even if Judy hadn’t told her flat out that it was true. But these photographs somehow make it more real than words on a page. She grabs at Santana’s hand, her desperate grip met with the same amount of force she gives. “This,” Quinn starts, throat suddenly dry. “This is my-” Her voice catches. She tries desperately to form the word but she can’t and instead she finds herself heaving to catch her breath.

  
Santana rests her head on Quinn’s. “You don’t have to say it,” she whispers. Quinn doesn’t need the permission but she relaxes at the sound of the words anyway, her body turning in on itself. “You don’t ever have to say it if you don’t want to, okay?” A pitiful sort of whine escapes her throat and she  _ hates _ it, hates that she’s being reduced to this but she can’t stop it. All she can do is nod and clutch onto Santana like she’s responsible for her air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, I'm headcanoning Keeva as Rachel Weisz! And anything not in English in this chapter is in Irish or gaelic!
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr @idontneedtobeforgiven


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly shocked but very proud of myself for actually keeping with this monthly update schedule because a) work was bonkers this month b) I spent the first half of this month writing a smutty oneshot (which should be posted soon?) and c) I went back to school which started this week.
> 
> Anyway, I wish I could say this was a happier chapter, but our girls are a mess. Enjoy?

She didn't expect to be taken to the house. 

Kara sits at her side, one hand nervously pushing her glasses higher on her nose, the other a steady weight on her lower back. Bridget and her husband are saying something in the front seat, Bridget making kind eye contact through the rear view mirror, but it sounds far away, muffled to Lena's ears. The baby is wiggling around, more active while she's awake than he was when they were home and Lena finds that it doesn't relax the nauseated feeling that's growing in the pit of her stomach.

“Lena?” She sits up straighter, turns her gaze from the passing scenery to Kara. “Did you hear, Bridget?” Kara’s face is calm but there's a faint crease around her eyes that gives away her concern. 

Lena shakes her head, cheeks reddening. “Sorry, it’s just so beautiful outside,” she says, the statement not necessarily a lie. Ireland is gorgeous and the road they've been making their way down has been an utter sight. But her deafness is not due to the moving landscape, that much obvious even to the family she's just barely met. A comforting warmness settles in her chest when no one decides to comment on it. “What was it you were saying?”

“The house,” her cousin says, eyes darting from the road to the rear view mirror, “we’ve had it listed as an Airbnb for a bit now so it may come off as impersonal. I hope that's okay.”

Lena nods, forces a smile after sucking a deep breath into her lungs. Impersonal is better. Impersonal won't swallow her whole. Impersonal won't awaken memories she's forgotten and impersonal will keep away the sinking guilt that will grow if she doesn't remember anything. 

“But there's a whole slew of stuff in the cellar. Or maybe in the shed?” Bridget turns to her husband. “Where did we put Keeva’s things?”

Oran runs a hand over his face, scratching at the stubble along his jaw. “All I know is that it's at the house.” Bridget side eyes him, annoyed, but Lena can see the way Bridget swallows down the irritation after a quick glance back to her and Kara. 

Lena does her best to try and relax into her seat, pulling the seatbelt when it digs awkwardly into her neck. She tries to get it to lay on her chest but it's useless, the belt sliding back off her breasts, unable to sit against the taut fabric of her shirt. Kara wordlessly pulls it back down, holds it so that it sits under the curve of Lena’s chest without digging into the ever shrinking space between Lena’s breasts and stomach. Kara’s knuckles stay pressed softly in her side and when Lena turns to look at her wife, she finds Kara staring out of her own window, free hand fiddling with the braids she'd hastily done that morning. Her glasses nearly hide the small line of worry between Kara’s eyebrows, black frames casting shadows that in the beginning of their relationship would have Lena second guessing herself, convinced that she couldn't read Kara as well as Kara could read her. Lena lets her hand find Kara’s, tucks her pinky between Kara’s fingers until her wife holds on. Kara still doesn't turn to look at her and Lena is thankful for it. It may be awful to think, but Lena’s not sure she can handle the weight of Kara’s emotions right now, not when she's struggling not to break from her own.

Lena turns to look back out her own window. The houses are getting even further apart now, rolling fields going on for miles. Under her breath, so quietly that only Kara will be able to hear, Lena whispers, “I love you.”

Kara turns her hand to grip Lena’s fully.

\--

Life keeps going. 

Quinn throws herself into her work, pouring over papers and quizzes and readings. She decides to write another paper on Irish mythology. She agrees to cover classes for a colleague. She finds herself volunteering more time at the women’s resource center on campus, agrees to help coordinate the Take Back the Night event happening next month. 

She pointedly ignores the unopened envelope still sitting on the floor of her kitchen. She pretends not to feel the thick envelopes of proof begging for her to look over them again, to let them breathe outside of the bottom drawer of her desk. She tucks the awful looking blanket high in her closet and when she puts the book on her bookshelf, she puts it at the end, spine half hidden by the molding of the bookcase.

She waits and waits and waits for something more. She waits for Santana to tell her what to do now. She waits for Judy to call and beg for forgiveness. She waits to wake up from this dream she seems to be trapped in. If Quinn is honest with herself, she waits to hear from Lena too, even though the letter stated that she wouldn't attempt contact again unprompted.

She waits for a week and nothing ever comes. Santana doesn't push, blatantly tells Quinn that what she does next is up to her. She hears nothing from Judy or Lena and when she wakes up each morning, she wakes up with nothing changed.

Quinn checks the clock on her laptop and decides to lock the door to her office. Her office hours don't start for another 45 minutes anyway.

She rucks her dress up a little before she sits in her office chair, legs curled up underneath her, bones and muscles protesting softly at the action. In her waiting, she's ignored her body, and Quinn finds her lips quirking. When she was younger, throwing herself into something physical helped quiet her thoughts. Now, it amplifies them. She wonders briefly what changed, when  _ she _ changed, and then decides to stop thinking about that.

Digging a protein bar out of her desk, Quinn refreshes her email and finds at the top of her inbox in bolded letters an email from Cochran, Beth.

Quinn’s hands cover her face, eyes shut tight. She tilts her head up, arms going to hang limp at her sides, looks at the water stain on her ceiling. “Are you fucking kidding me,” she asks anyone who will listen.

She should've known that the reprieve she'd magically been granted concerning her own parentage was the only slack the universe would cut her.

She could let the email sit unanswered, send it straight into the trash. Quinn curses the thought. She's never avoided Beth before. Their entire relationship is awkward, strained, but Quinn has never run from it, not once. It shouldn't be any different now. The thought of shouldering Beth’s feelings as well as her own is enough to spike her anxiety but she’s not sure she can stand being any more of a disappointment to Beth.

The email is surprisingly short and simple. There's no greeting, no sign off. Just  _ I hate performing _ .

Three words are all that sent her into a tizzy and Quinn doesn't even know why Beth is telling her of all people this.

Her phone buzzes and then there's a text from Santana, asking if she's had lunch yet. Food is an easier thing to tackle even if her stomach twists uneasily.

She logs out of her computer with the email unanswered.

\--

Lena sits primly on the edge of the couch, watching Bridget dig around in the cabinets through the open doorway. Kara and Oran have gone to search for her mother’s things and Lena is left listless, unsure what to do now.

So far, she remembers nothing new. It’s like she’s never been here before except when she looks at the window seat, a shiver runs through her entire body, the baby pushing against her skin.

Bridget enters with two mugs of tea, a soft smile etching into her round cheeks. “I added a bit of sugar. Hope that’s alright.”

Lena nods and takes the drink, pressing her palms to the hot sides. Bridget settles across from her on the edge of the fireplace and looks at Lena carefully. Lena thinks she can see the words gathering in Bridget’s throat. Lena thinks to beg this woman to be gentle with her before scolding herself, Lillian’s words playing in the back of her mind that Luthors are strong and powerful and never weak.

She takes a long drink of her tea and fights the urge to rub at her temple. “I’m sorry if this is overwhelming,” Bridget says, voice hushed and easy, the faint lines at the corner of her green eyes deepening in empathy. “I just know that this trip of yours isn’t very long.”

“It’s okay.” Lena puts her cup down only to regret not having something to occupy her hands. She tucks her hair behind her ears. “After all, I didn’t give you much warning.”

Bridget shrugs. “I’m used to family just dropping in, thanks to Oran’s family,” she says with a rolling of her eyes. “I’m just glad that for once it’s my relatives dropping in.”

Lena manages a small smile. “I know what you mean.” Her eyes stray to the direction Kara had gone in before she looks back at her cousin. “Thank you, Bridget. It really means a lot that you’ve been so welcoming.”

The other woman just waves her hand, similar to the way she had the night before at dinner when Kara said the same thing. “You’re family.” The way she says the word makes Lena’s chest feel tight. This woman barely knows her but is so accepting, so ready to create a relationship that they should’ve had for years. She looks at Lena and doesn’t see a Luthor but instead an O’Bric.

A flush overcomes Lena, a rush of too many things hitting her all at once. 

Concern pinches Bridget’s expression but then Oran is yelling for her and her face falls into annoyance. “I swear, he’s as thick as two short planks,” Bridget groans. She stands up, pulling her sweater down over her hips. “For fuck’s sake Oran, have you ever been here,” she shouts, heading out the door.

Kara reappears shortly after with eyes wide behind her glasses. “Where have you taken me,” she asks in a hurried whisper. Genuine laughter bubbles in her throat and when Kara collapses down next to her, Lena presses a kiss to Kara’s temple. “I can see where the stuff is, he just won’t let me look because he’s convinced it’s not there.”

“I’m sorry I can’t help,” Lena murmurs as she leans into Kara’s warmth. “At least he’s not the one I share blood with?”

Kara hums. “Small victories, I guess.” There’s some bickering from down the hall until Bridget is kindly asking Kara to come help move some boxes. She lets out a sigh and braces one hand on Lena’s thigh, the other on the arm of the couch. “Once we’re back at the hotel, I think we should take a walk. If you’re not too tired.” It’s a clear request to talk and Lena relaxes, not realizing until that moment that she was worried Kara wouldn’t want to talk about the car ride here. Lena nods and cups Kara’s cheeks before she can get up, stealing a kiss that she’s been craving since they got out of the car. Kara’s forehead rests against hers. “I love you too.” Lena pulls back with a small quirk of her brow. Kara looks at her, sheepish. “Sorry I couldn’t say it back earlier.”

Lena lets out a breath, shaking her head. “Later,” she says. “Go help before there’s more yelling.” Another quick kiss and then Kara is gone.

\--

“Why can't you actually give me advice the one time I want it?”

Santana leans back in her chair, one arm draped off the back of it. Her monte cristo sits only half eaten but the two mimosas she ordered are completely gone, making Santana loose enough to finally give Quinn some direction. She hopes, anyway. “Why do you think you'd actually listen to me if I gave you advice?”

Quinn glares, stabbing at her salad with unnecessary force. Santana examines her nails and makes a face before trying to clean up the edge of her index nail. “Because my life is a mess.” Santana looks up, eyes wider than normal, and Quinn squares her shoulders. She wouldn't admit to it, but she mentally pats herself on the shoulder for being so frank and honest when she could just pretend this whole mess didn't happen. “Beth emailed me today,” she confesses, free hand coming to fist the cloth napkin in her lap. “And I don't know what to say to her. I don't know what to do with her wanting to talk to me. I'm not ready for any of… any of that.” Santana’s expression has changed into something more neutral, not necessarily veering towards concern but it's less commanding than normal and it's enough to make Quinn look out the window. “I don't even know my mother. How am I supposed to, to- what if she's looking for that? For her mother?” A bus stops at the light in front of the restaurant and then there's Rachel Berry’s face staring back at her. Quinn swallows thickly. “Rachel said she didn't think it was good for Beth that she was around.” She looks back at Santana, vision blurring with tears and Quinn grips her napkin tighter, lets her fork fall to her plate. “What am I supposed to  _ do  _ with that?”

Santana sits up straighter, elbows on the table now, hands clasped together like she's trying to keep herself from reaching out. Quinn takes a long, deep breath, lets it out through parted lips as she stares down at her salad. She feels pathetic and childish. She's thirty years old but she's still so desperate for direction, to be told what she should be doing. She shakes her head, subtle and careful like anything providing more movement would break her. She's finding herself ridiculous now too, upset that she's allowed herself to get so upset so quickly. With a lick of her lips, Quinn looks back at Santana. “So if you could just please tell me what to do, whether it's about Lena or Beth, I would really appreciate it.”

Santana regards her slowly and Quinn wants to shrink away from the inspection but she fights the urge, intent on keeping her eyes level with her friend. “I think,” Santana starts and her voice has enough edge to it to make Quinn feel like she's not being handled with baby gloves, “that you should probably get plastered.” 

Quinn sags, her eyes already rolling as she brings a hand up to her temple. “San-”

Santana puts a hand up to silence her. “I think you need to stop thinking so damn much and maybe if you just get wasted, your brain will actually stop.” Santana sighs, hands dropping back into the table but not making a move to reach out to touch Quinn. “A lot of shit has been dumped on you and you haven't given yourself a break at all. I think your mind just needs time to clear itself.”

Her eyebrows drop into a glare. “And you think clearing my mind by getting drunk will help?”

“Well, you've never smoked a joint with Brit and I before so I wasn't going to suggest drugs,” Santana quips. “And I don't think fucking someone will take you out of your own head completely.” Santana shrugs, gives a little tilt of her head, and settles back in on her lunch. “My only other suggestion would be to see a therapist but-”

Quinn snorts. “That's not happening.”

Santana looks up, annoyed, but there's a small wrinkle around her eyes that makes Quinn think she’s a little concerned too. “I know.” It's an argument they've had before and Quinn holds Santana’s gaze as her friend clearly fights an urge to say more. Quinn can feel herself bracing for a fight, ready to tell Santana that the thought of telling a perfect stranger the horrors and shortcomings and messes of her life is enough to send her into a full blown panic attack. 

The wrinkle around Santana's eyes deepens before disappearing altogether. She picks up her knife and fork, looking down at her plate. “I know,” she repeats, voice filled with a little more edge. “So buy a bottle of vodka and chill the fuck out.”

Santana continues eating but Quinn’s stomach starts turning into knots, the rest of her salad suddenly unappealing.

\--

The car starts outside and Kara settles across from her, cross legged on the coffee table, a rather overwhelming pile of boxes surrounding them. Bridget and Oran are off to pick up some dinner for them but Lena is sure it's just an excuse to give Lena time to look through things without prying eyes. Kara had arranged things around Lena neatly, pictures and books being set on either side of her legs.

“Well then,” Lena says with a soft clearing of her throat. Her hands still sit at her sides and she looks between the boxes for a moment before looking up at Kara. The smile her wife gives her is soft, encouraging if not a little sad. “I'm not sure I want to do this.”

Kara nods. “You don't have to.”

Lena’s lips thin, hands coming up to rub at her stomach just so they have something to do. Just so she doesn't have to touch the boxes. The baby has settled since they've gotten to the house but there's a faint flutter near her belly button, a feeling that she's sure Kara wouldn't be able to feel. It's a move just for Lena and she knows that it's ridiculous to think, but it's helping her remember to breathe steady. “We came all this way.”

Kara shrugs. “We can continue on to Brighton if you want. Or stick around to see more of Ireland.” Kara scoots forward until she puts her hands firmly on Lena’s knees. “Or we can go back home. We can do  _ anything  _ you want, Lena. It's okay.”

Lena swallows hard, nods minutely, before she looks back down at the box to her left. Books/papers is written in messy sharpie on the top, her mother’s name below that in parenthesis. Kara’s already told her it's mostly notebooks and blueprints and somehow that seems more overwhelming than the thought of looking at pictures. “I don't want to look in that one. Not tonight,” Lena says when she meets Kara’s eyes again. 

With one hand, Kara grabs the box and moves it behind herself, her body blocking most of it. Lena’s eyebrow quirks at the show of Kara’s strength. Of all her powers, that's the only one Kara is willing to use outside of her hero duties, but she still doesn't do it often. She prefers to be as normal as she can be, as powerless as she would have been had Krypton not dispersed across the universe. Kara sighs a little, tilts her head to the side, the light reflecting off her glasses and hiding her eyes from Lena. “You look awful,” Kara says and the years they've been together take away any sting the words could have caused. “The faster I made that box disappear, the better.”

Lena lets out a breath, nodding as she pushes herself up. Kara does look considerably more concerned then, eyebrows scrunching together behind the frames of her glasses, but lets Lena move into her space with no questions. She gets a knee on either side of Kara’s legs and Kara’s hands go to her hips immediately, a gentle but firm grip over her sweater. Lena reaches over her wife and pushes the box until it hits the floor. With the table now free, she sets her weight down into Kara’s lap, hands held tight behind Kara’s neck as Lena moves to wrap her legs around Kara. The table creaks a little, either from the weight or the movement, but the only thing Lena can focus on is getting closer. Soon her stomach will prevent them from a proximity such as this, the swell of her stomach a solid force between them even now, but Lena pulls Kara closer with needy hands. She tucks her head into Kara’s neck and squeezes her eyes shut. 

One of Kara’s hands curls under her sweater, stroking up and down Lena’s spine, fingers working into the soreness that's practically permanent now at the base of her back. Kara hums softly in her ear, slowly pulling Lena in closer, her body contorting willingly around their child in an effort to bring Lena some peace. “I didn't think it would be this hard,” Lena whispers into Kara’s skin.

“I know, love.” Kara turns just enough so that she can press kisses along Lena’s jaw. “There's never a way to prepare for it.” Lena sits up, takes Kara’s cheeks into her hands and Lena can see the storms in Kara’s eyes. A frown pulls at her lips but then Kara is shaking her head, the hand not on her back coming up to stroke at the corner of her mouth. “Hey, none of that. I told you, we can talk about it later.”

“You have to let me put you first sometimes,” Lena sighs, hands falling to Kara’s shoulders as she rests her forehead against her wife’s.

“I do.” Kara brushes her nose against Lena’s. “But I've had a lot longer with my grief than you. Mine can wait. I promise.” Before Lena can think to put up a fight, Kara is kissing her and Lena is helpless to do anything but fall into it.

Eventually, a few boxes get opened. One is an utter mess of yarn parading as blankets. Another is full of musty clothes; T-shirts bearing the names of universities Keeva went to, others with band names and tour dates, a few dresses that are definitely no longer in style but still nice enough. The one with pictures is after that and Kara keeps a hand flat and grounding on Lena’s back the entire time. The pictures are surprisingly sorted, baggies labeled with one of four words: Lena, Quinn, Keeva, and Family. Kara gravitates to the ones bearing Lena’s name, uses her teeth to open up the first bag she grabs just so she can keep her hand on Lena. 

Each picture is picked up with care, both careful to only touch the corners. Lena can feel the heat radiating off Kara’s cheeks, her grin unbidden and unabashedly adoring as they file through pictures of a tinier Lena. “Oh,” Kara says with a small laugh. “This one is my favorite.” Lena looks, lump in her throat keeping her silent. It's a Polaroid of Lena on a swing, legs and tiny little fists wrapped around the metal chain, her head sweeping down close to the ground, dark hair wild and filled with debris from her upside down swinging adventure. Lena’s cheeks are red and her mouth is open in a wide laugh, a small gap in the side of her teeth from where a tooth was missing. “You're not even wearing matching shoes!” 

Kara laughs again and the sound helps Lena find her voice, body relaxing even further against Kara. “How on earth did my mother let me leave the house dressed like that,” Lena wonders and Kara turns to her, nose brushing along her jaw before kissing her.

“This is going to sound a little crazy, but sometimes kids  _ don't  _ dress like mini adults.”

The corners of her lips curve into an amused smirk, eyebrow arching. “You say that like you have experience, Miss Zor-El.”

Kara rolls her eyes but laughs again, setting the picture into the pile she wants to take back with them to the hotel. “I got to choose my own clothes on earth! That has to count for something.”

“I suppose,” Lena drawls out before a thought comes to her. “What will we do for him?”

Kara’s already pulling another bag out of the box. “Hm?”

“He’ll be the child of Lena Luthor. A Luthor and a Super actually, but nobody will know the Super part.”

Kara clicks her tongue. “So you don't want me fighting crime with our son in a baby carrier on my chest?” She knows it's a joke but Lena bristles at the thought, one hand coming to her stomach. “Do you really think how our son dresses will undermine how brilliant you are at running your company?”

The answer is instantaneous. “Of course not.” She strokes her belly lightly. “I just… he’ll be under a microscope.”

“He will. But surely we’ll support him and defend him every step of the way from people who don't matter.” Kara kisses her jaw again. “Right?”

Lena nods, lets herself take a deep breath. Kara smiles and takes a handful of pictures out of the new bag. The one on top is of Lena and Quinn, the duo standing in what looks to be the field behind the house they're in now. Their clothes match but the colors are different, Lena wrapped in a green sweater with little ears on the hood, Quinn dressed the same but in blue. Big, round, red sunglasses sit on their faces, the rims hitting the chubby cheeks each girl has. There are only a few differences to the girls outside of their clothing colors. Quinn’s hair is a shock of blonde, and one side of her sunglasses is opened at the hinge, revealing a clear lense underneath. They're both so tiny in the picture that Lena has to wonder how old they are. She takes Kara’s wrist in her hand and turns it until she can see the back. “I was newly two.”

“You're adorable,” Kara sighs. “Between you and James, our kiddo is going to be the cutest thing  _ ever _ .”

Lena blushes, lets her fingers tangle in the little hairs at the back of Kara’s neck. She wishes, not for the first time, that she could see pictures of Kara’s childhood. To see her wife as a baby, as a toddler, to see Kara as a pure bundle of joy, untouched by the harsh realities and weight of her world. She wishes too, for a baby that would look like Kara.

\--

She avoids scotch and the thought of downing vodka or tequila reminds her of high school. Quinn settles for wine. She drinks a bottle of white and a bottle of red, makes her third a rose. She rounds back to red, opens the bottle that a colleague had gifted her two years ago when she became co-head and for this one, she drinks straight from the bottle. 

Her brain doesn't slow down at all. Instead it feels like it’s all bursting at the seams, each thought struggling to be heard and filtered through first. 

She strips down to her underwear and thinks for a moment to go out onto her balcony. But it's freezing, a chance of light snow still for the rest of the week, and so she simply sits with her back to the glass. She takes another long drag from the bottle before picking up her phone. 

The line rings and rings and rings and Quinn is only vaguely aware of a voice inside her head telling her this is a stupid idea. 

“Quinn?”

She presses her face to the glass. “Hi,” she sighs.

There's a pause. “Is everything okay?”

The instinct to answer yes is there but the word no climbs up her throat before it's stomped back down. “Are you busy,” is what Quinn settles on. There's a rustling in the background, the sound of a door closing, and Quinn suddenly feels like the world’s biggest idiot.

“I'm all ears,” Rachel says just when Quinn pulls the phone away to hang up.

Quinn bites her bottom lip, stares down at the seconds as they tick by on her phone. She expects Rachel to say something, to hang up, but the line stays silent, connected, until a ragged breath comes from Quinn’s lungs. She taps the speaker button and truly has no idea what she's going to say until, “So, I'm adopted,” spills out of her mouth.

“Oh.” 

“Technically, I suppose. Russell is my father but my mom…” Her voice still breaks on the word and she hates it,  _ hates _ it, but part of her yearns to call Judy right then and there. She wants her mom and Quinn thinks she's nothing but an idiot.

“Oh, well,” Rachel starts. “You're hardly the first person that's happened to. I'm only one of my dad’s, you know. Adopted by the other.” Quinn rolls her eyes. It's not the same and they both know that. “I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, Quinn.”

“I don't know either,” Quinn whispers. She runs her hands through her hair, wishes for a hair tie but is too sluggish to go get one from her bedroom. “My half sister got in contact with me. She wants to meet me.”

“And do you want to meet her?”

Quinn emits something close to a whine, rearranging herself on the floor, the glass suddenly too cold for her. She takes another gulp of wine. “I don't know.”

Rachel lets out a soft breath. There's a small creak on the end of the line. Quinn thinks to ask where Rachel is, what she's doing. Quinn instead reaches for a pillow from the nearest chair and stuffs it under her head. “There's nothing for you to lose here, Quinn. Only something to gain.”

Quinn blinks. She has lost things. Her mot- she's lost  _ Judy _ , the only family she really had left. She feels like she's lost memories, too many of them feeling tainted with lies and half truths her parents told her. She feels off, a part of her self turned upside down, unable to- “You have a sister who wants to be in your life, or at least try to. You have a family that wants to get to know you.” Quinn doesn't, Lena and a few extended family members in Ireland being the extent of her newfound family lines, but she doesn't correct Rachel. “Aren't you curious about them?”

Quinn licks her lips and rolls over, staring up at the ceiling. She doesn't know all the details but. “Knowing what you do now, would you have still chosen to get to know Shelby?”

She can't be sure, but Quinn thinks she takes Rachel by surprise with the question. How, Quinn isn't sure, because it seemed to her at least, to be the next logical step. She remembers then that she's wine drunk and maybe her logic is skewed. “I think that I would,” Rachel says, voice quieter than Quinn would expect. “It's not perfect or ideal, our relationship, but it's also taught me a lot about what I don't want.” There's another voice on the other end of the line, muffled from either proximity or volume, and then Rachel is saying, “Yeah, yeah, give me a minute.”

“Thank you,” Quinn says before Rachel can say anything more to her. “For taking my call.”

“Don't make it sound so formal,” Rachel breathes out. “You can call me anytime, Quinn.”

Quinn knows that doesn't mean she should.

\--

Kara thinks of taking them for a stroll inside their hotel but Lena insists they take a walk around the town like Kara originally suggested. Lena, for her part, doesn't fuss when Kara makes sure she's got a coat on over her sweater, a scarf around her neck, and gloves covering her hands.

Lena presses close to her too as they walk, their arms looped tightly together. “I know you're just leeching my heat,” Kara teases and tugs her own hat down over her ears.

“As my wife, I think you agreed to be my own personal space heater,” Lena quips. She's more at ease now than she was at the house and Kara lets herself breathe easy again. “I'm sorry, for not reaching out in the car.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Were we riding in different cars?” Lena sighs, exasperated, and Kara’s frown deepens. “I wasn't exactly making myself very available either.” She takes Lena’s hand in hers and gives it a small squeeze. “Besides, we’re past all that.”

“Past apologies, maybe,” Lena says. “I still had to say it.” She gives a little shrug. “We are not, however, past all of your emotions.” Kara sighs. She uses her free hand to fiddle with her glasses, readjusting how they sit in her ears before pushing them further to her nose. Lena tugs. “Talk to me.”

Kara looks up at the sky, stares into the dark and finds each pinpoint of light, over this part of the world, even ones blind to Lena’s eyes. Her throat tightens and she turns her gaze down at their feet, watches the dirt sift with each step they take. “I have the AI of my mom,” she begins. “But I don't… that isn't my mom. All I have left of her is a necklace and all these memories that I have to make fit with that I know of her now. I want to think she'd be different from her AI, if she were really here. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe I'm just hoping and maybe that hope comes from all the time I've spent here.” Kara sighs and she looks to Lena to find her wife watching her carefully. “I'm so, so happy you have more of a connection with your mom, now. I just wish I could have the same. Have something more I could touch.”

A frown worries and pulls at Lena’s features but Kara can see the understanding in Lena’s eyes. She tries for a smile and she can't fight all the sadness back but Lena gives her a small smile too, one softer than Kara’s managed. “I want to see her with our son,” Kara confesses. “I dream, sometimes, of him.” She licks her lips and clears her throat, wishing suddenly for something more to do while she talks. Lena starts tapping out a rhythm against the back of her hand and it's enough to settle her, to keep from fiddling too much with her glasses, her coat. “We’re in Argo City, and I'm showing him our beautiful son and telling him of Rao and I just… I can feel you there too, just out of sight. And I think I feel her too and I just feel like I'm  _ home _ .” She's not sure when they stopped walking but Lena stands in front of her, their son pressing against her own belly. “You have always felt like home to me-”

Lena rolls her eyes, fond, but there's a redness there that gives away her emotions. “I know what you mean, darling. It's okay.”

Kara swallows thickly and nods. She reaches for Lena’s other hand. “I want to show our son Krypton and this adventure has just reminded me that anything I could show him pales in comparison.” She brings Lena’s hands to her lips only for Lena to pull them away. 

With a tiny huff, Lena takes her gloves off, shoving them haphazardly into her pocket. Kara opens her mouth to scold Lena about the weather but then Lena is touching her face, hands cupping her cheeks so sweetly that words die in Kara’s throat. “What were we thinking,” Lena asks softly. “We want to give him so much but we’re falling terribly short.”

Kara lets out a short laugh and the tiny smile returns to Lena’s face. “When we were trying, I asked Eliza if she thought we were ready.”

Lena’s face softens a little more. “Did you?”

Kara nods. “She told me that no one is ever ready. That we’ll mess him up regardless of how hard we try.”

Lena guides her down until their foreheads are touching. Kara palms Lena’s waist, fingers spread wide to try and touch more of her. The steady heartbeats inside Lena are so loud to her that sometimes Kara swears she can feel them. “That's not a particularly comforting thought.”

Kara shakes her head and lets her eyes fall closed. “Do you still want to have a baby with me?”

Lena kisses her as soon as the question leaves her lips. “Being pregnant is kind of awful,” Lena mutters. She pulls back just enough that Kara can see her eyes clearly. “And I am extremely anxious at the thought of raising an actual child.” Lena wraps her arms around Kara’s neck and Kara pulls her closer on instinct, tries not to let her worry show. She must fail because then Lena’s rubbing a thumb at the space between her eyebrows, trying to soothe out the worry lines. “But I've already thought about our  _ second _ .”

Her eyes get impossibly large and Lena just lets out a small laugh, smile impossibly shy. “Really,” Kara asks, voice higher than normal. Her cheeks hurts from the grin on her face and her eyes are still watery, the sadness ebbing so that joy can take its place. Lena nods and Kara doesn't even spare a glance at those around them. She wraps her arms tightly around Lena, lifts her off her feet in a hug that makes the both of them laugh and their son wriggle between them.

\--

Quinn wakes up in her bathtub.

Her head is  _ killing _ her but the thought of getting up to get some aspirin is enough to make her close her eyes again.

She dozes, for how long she's not sure, but when she wakes up again, she sits up slow. Shuffles at a snail’s pace to the faucet. Turns in the water and is properly jolted when the cold water comes through before the hot.

She doesn't really clean herself, doesn't even make a real effort to stand until her anxiety acts up enough to create scenarios of her drowning with the shower on. 

She throws up twice before she makes it to her bed. It's nearing 1pm and Quinn already knows she is not going to get out of bed today. She turns her TV on low, digs around in her bedside drawer for something that will take away the pounding in her head. She dry swallows some ibuprofen, turns the brightness on her phone all the way down, buries herself under the covers. She has a few texts from Santana, one from a coworker, and a dozen emails. The one from Beth stares at her and instead of replying, she opens up a new message. 

To:  [ lena.danvers.zl@gmail.com ](mailto:lena.danvers.zl@gmail.com)

CC:  [ Lena.luthor@lcorp.com ](mailto:Lena.luthor@lcorp.com)

From:  [ qfabray@metcu.edu ](mailto:qfabray@metcu.edu)

Subject: Your Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr @idontneedtobeforgiven


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So sorry this took so long. I had a death in the family in September, not to mention papers and midterms. Plus I was a little stuck on how I wanted this next chapter to play out. I'm not even sure I'm 100% happy with it by my wife assures me it doesn't suck so... Hopefully it was worth the wait? Enjoy!

Kara’s hand slips into hers as they get off the plane and it takes everything Lena has to not completely sink into her wife. She doesn't understand how she's still so tired. She slept for most of the flight, fell asleep sometime during the movie Kara picked and only managed to rouse long enough for one meal. Their trip had been emotionally taxing for the most part, but they had made good of the last three days, driving from Brighton up to London before heading back home through Heathrow. 

Kara seems to be on a one track mind to the luggage carousel but Lena gets wrapped up in a scent sweet enough to perk her up a little. She pauses, rudely, in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the airport, searching for the source. Kara looks at her confused but then Kara’s eyes widen, face falling into the most dreamy state. “ _ Noonan’s _ ,” she sighs and Lena follows her line of sight to see the cafe set up in National City’s airport. Lena can think of nothing more satisfying than a large, pecan sticky bun and an ice cold water. It’s embarrassing how breathless she gets at the thought and Lena licks her lips. “Did you just moan?”

Lena’s cheeks redden. “Did I?” Kara laughs, hair bouncing around her shoulders as she nods. Lena lets her head fall to Kara’s chest as she curses their son lightly. She's used to being so composed yet he's already throwing her off kilter. “Go get our bags and I'll grab us a dozen sticky buns?”

“Sounds perfect.” Kara leaves a lingering kiss to her forehead before heading off to find their luggage. 

The barista goes about putting all available sticky buns in a box and Lena takes the free moment to search her bag for her phone. She's sure there are a slew of emails she has to wade through but hopefully none are terribly urgent. Her bag is relatively empty but bottomless it seems, because she doesn't find her phone until her box, perfectly wrapped with a string, is placed in front of her. 

She stuffs the phone in her pocket and takes the pastries, relaxes when she reaches Kara and sees that all their luggage is accounted for. She doesn't even think to turn her phone on again until they're in the back of a cab. She gets as far as pulling it out before Kara is putting her hand on top of Lena’s. “Let's wait a little longer before connecting to the real world again?” It's a request and one Lena has no problem granting, especially when Kara digs into the box and starts feeding Lena bits of sticky bun. Her appetite still doesn't come close to Kara’s but Lena is eating a lot more now and so she nips at Kara’s fingertips when she deems the latest offering too small. “Okay, okay,” Kara bemoans. “Sorry for trying to keep your face clean.”

Lena’s eyebrow arches. “You didn't feel that way last night.” Kara chokes a little on her latest bite, their cab driver coughing into his hand before turning up the radio. Lena shrugs when Kara looks at her, admonished, diving into the box with gusto. 

There are only four sticky buns left by the time they get inside their apartment and she knows soon enough their son will be moving like crazy from all the sugar. But for now, the beast has been tamed and she's ready to fall into the shower to get the smell of plane off her. 

“I'm starting a bath,” Kara calls from their bedroom and Lena fights against letting a moan loose right then. 

“I love you,” Lena yells instead.

She sees Kara’s head pop out of their room down the hall, a smile on her face. “Bring the rest of the sticky buns if you love me.”

Lena laughs, shrugging off her coat to put it on the rack next to the door. Grabbing the box by the string, she follows the sound of Kara’s humming. Kara’s adding bubble bath to the filling tub, already naked herself. With a soft kiss to Kara’s shoulder, Lena sets the box down on the ledge by the bath and then makes quick work of her top and her leggings. The black fabric is already half way down her legs when she remembers to fish her phone out of the pocket. She grabs on to Kara for stability when her feet get tangled up in the process and before she can do something awful like drop her phone into the water, Lena puts it on top of the box of pastries. Once her legs are free she unhooks her bra and Kara quirks an eyebrow, amused, at Lena’s sigh. 

“I think I have some disappointing news, darling,” Lena murmurs as Kara climbs into the tub first. 

“Hm?” Settled in her spot, Kara holds her arms up and Lena grabs hold, carefully climbing over the side of the tub and lowering herself down opposite her wife.

“From the looks of my leggings, I think underwear are becoming a necessity.” Kara looks at the rumpled fabric, the discharge still shiny in the light. Lena rolls her neck, relaxing fully into the water. “I really wish someone would have told me about all the gross stuff my body was going to do before.”

Kara’s face scrunches before she turns back to look at Lena. “Who would've thought there was gross stuff before the birth part?” Kara’s tongue pokes through her teeth and Lena laughs fondly. “Do we have to go shopping for underwear?”

Lena hums as she turns her phone on. “Maybe? I'm not sure how what little I have now will work with this stomach.” Kara runs her foot along Lena’s hip, toes coming up to drag lightly against the curve of her stomach. Lena finds herself warming under Kara’s dopey grin. 

Lena slides the box of sticky buns to Kara and then picks her phone back up. There are, mercifully, only two texts that she's missed (one from Jess, the other from Alex) but a good five dozen emails. She gives her inbox a cursory glance but refuses to focus too much on anything because this vacation doesn't end until tomorrow. Jess would've left several voicemails if there was anything pressing that needed her attention anyway. 

Kara’s got half a sticky bun in her mouth and a piece between her fingertips, thick syrup starting its slow descent down her thumb. She brings the offering to Lena’s lips, knees bending and emerging from the water as she scoots closer to Lena. Green eyes glance back down at the screen in her hand, making sure she’s not going to miss anything in her somewhat mindless scrolling. “There better be more for me than just this bite,” Lena teases, opening her mouth for Kara to feed her. She lets her tongue catch the excess syrup and Kara’s next breath is noisy, eyes already darkening a little. Quickly, Lena goes back to scrolling until the end so that she can relax with Kara properly. There's not too many more emails anyway but then she sees it. 

Quinn Fabray in bold letters.

Her phone instantly falls into the tub and she just  _ stares _ , gapes down at it like a fish. Kara on the other hand-

“Lena,” Kara shrieks, sticky hand diving under the bubbles to get the phone. 

“Oh my god,” Lena groans, eyes unbelievably wide, not only from the shock of getting an email from her sister, but also from the fact that she actually just dropped her phone in water. She can feel the phone slip from Kara’s frantically searching fingers and skid under her own leg. Lena grabs it firmly and raises it above the water, above her head, as if the higher she gets it, the more likely it is to still work.

Kara is looking at her like she's a mad woman and all Lena can think to say is, “my sister,” in an uncharacteristically shrill tone. Kara looks between Lena and the phone, her own eyes widening, before she snatches the phone from Lena’s hand and immediately presses the home button. They both watch as the black screen doesn't change and then, before Lena can register what's happening, Kara has the phone to her mouth. Her eyebrows furrow and her nose twists. “What are you  _ doing _ ?”

Kara spits out a little water. “Sucking the water out of the phone.” Kara repeats the actions and Lena finds herself completely distracted from the Quinn of it all because she's 70% certain her wife has gone crazy. “This is a completely valid hack,” Kara tells her after another moment, this time less water coming out of her mouth when she spits. “You would not believe how many times I've saved phones this way.” Lena blinks and watches Kara start to take the phone back to her mouth before she pauses. “Wait.” Kara frowns down at the phone. “We’re rich,” she murmurs. “… and you have your tablet connected to this phone. I don't have to save this.”

Kara looks up at Lena, cheeks a little red.

Lena starts laughing and then Kara does too.

\--

The clock is too loud.

Quinn stares at it from her desk. She wonders if she'd get into trouble if she pulled it from the wall or if she'd set off some sort of alarm by doing so. 

It ticks louder and louder with each passing second. She had tried to drown it out with music but it still wheedled its way through the tunes and irritated her enough that she turned the music off. “This is utterly ridiculous,” she says to herself. She stands and throws on her coat and stalks across campus to the library. Santana’s lecture is just letting out and Quinn smiles politely at a few familiar students, hoping her expression is schooled enough so that the lingering ire of her office doesn't shine through. 

Santana comes out a few minutes later. She stops in the doorway, arms coming to cross under her chest. “Heard you cancelled classes yesterday,” Santana says, eyebrow arched. “Take my advice?”

“Stupidly,” Quinn returns. The wind whips through the open hallway and Quinn fists her hands in the pockets of her coat, stomping down the urge to pull her hair out of her eyes.

Santana moves out of the door when students gather awkwardly around her but instead of taking off to her office, she leans back against the wall and waits. “And?”

Someone darts between them on a bike and Quinn allows herself an annoyed huff. “I emailed Lena,” she says carefully. Santana’s eyebrows raise a little. Quinn wonders, not for the first time, if she should've emailed Beth instead.

Quinn ducks her head, rolls her eyes at herself. God forbid she email them both.

Santana nods and then pushes herself off the wall. “What’d you say?”

They take off towards the closest coffee hut, side by side but not touching. “Mercifully, I managed to coherently tell her this was news to me and then ask what she wanted to know.” Santana eyes her carefully. Quinn sighs. “I didn't know what to say. It was two lines at most.”

Santana lets a hum rumble in her throat. “Probably gave off a bitchy vibe.”

Something like a smile twists at Quinn’s lips. “Wouldn’t be off base though, would it?”

Santana holds open the door for Quinn with a laugh. “Guess not.” The smell of roasting coffee hits them hard and Quinn can feel the beginnings of a headache already receding. “Maybe she's a bitch too,” Santana adds, an afterthought once they're in line. “You've got to be a little to be a CEO of a company like that.”

Quinn nods absently. Her attention is pulled to the magazine sticking out of the bag in front of them. She can't see who the feature is, but there are other stories lining the top and both Lena and Rachel stare back at Quinn. Her brow drops into a soft glare at the glossy paper. ‘PREGNANT?’ in bold blue letters sits under Lena’s photo. It's likely nothing more than tabloid gossip but something twists in Quinn’s stomach anyway, a phantom swirling low in her belly.

“You look constipated,” Santana says as she digs her wallet out of her bag. Quinn’s glare returns and she directs it at her friend, elbowing Santana as the other girl catches sight of the magazine now too. “Oh, look, you're going to be an aunt.”

Quinn bristles at the word and she stands straighter than she thought possible. “I don't even  _ know _ her.”

Santana shrugs. “Okay, wanna talk about Rachel since you got to know her  _ real _ well?”

The girl glances back at them, headphones still nestled in her ears, but there clearly isn't anything playing based on the slight wide eyes staring back at them. They're professors here, professionals, and so Quinn tries her very best not to bare her teeth when she says, “go place your order.”

She takes a quick step forward up to the counter, just barely missing the customer leaving. Quinn can hear laughter bubble in Santana’s throat. “Anyway,” Quinn starts, still eyeing the girl as they wait their turn. “No, I don't care to talk about Rachel. We can talk about Lena, I just certainly am not going to be referring to her potential children as my nieces or nephews.”

Santana rolls her eyes but moves past it anyway. “Are you going to ask her stuff?”

Quinn shrugs, running a hand through her hair just so that she has something to do. “I wasn't the one to go looking.”

Somehow, Santana rolls her eyes harder. “If you're not going to participate, then why did you even email her?” It feels like she's one of Santana’s students and Quinn knows she's a mess but she doesn't want to be treated like a child. Santana catches the way Quinn locks her jaw and the two of them stand there, irritated with the other until it's their turn to order. 

Santana pays for them both and it's not until they're waiting at the other end of the counter for their drinks that Santana actually turns to her, face still nothing but sharp lines but her eyes are soft. “It's not fair to anyone when you only have one foot in the door, Quinn.” 

Quinn swallows hard, looking away from Santana even though she knows it's an admittance of guilt. When it comes to relationships, Quinn isn't sure she's ever been all in and Santana’s finally called her out on it. The barista sets their orders down and Quinn still doesn't know what to say, just feels like she should. Maybe to apologize, though it's not an apology that she owes Santana, and she fights down the urge to bite at her friend, to bring up things that don't matter to this current conversation but would hurt Santana nonetheless. 

Santana grabs a sugar packet and tears it open, adds it to Quinn’s tea before she can process what Santana’s doing. “That includes you too,” Santana says, voice almost hushed in the busy coffee hut. She plops a stirrer into Quinn’s tea and then adds cream to her own coffee. She won't look at Quinn again until their drinks are fixed and secure in their palms. Santana sighs softly and her face follows suit, features rounded with concern and, god, Quinn even thinks pity. “You should let yourself be happy, Quinn.”

Santana doesn't wait for her to follow, just opens the door against a gust of wind and leaves Quinn alone.

\--

Lena doesn't think about the email all day.

It's in the back of her mind, sure, but she's at the office, catching up on a week’s worth of issues that needed her attention. She looks over contracts and schematics, has several phone and video conferences with LCorp branches around the world. As much as she would like to sit down and pore over the short email from Quinn, it just doesn't happen.

Once she's out of the building with Jess at her side, she rolls her shoulders back with a soft sigh. “Did you see the email I received yesterday,” she asks her friend, a little quieter than she normally would. There's some paparazzi across the street, more than there have been now that Lena can't hide the swell of her stomach as well. Jess sticks close to her side, their arms looped tight as they make their way towards Lena’s towncar. Someone yells Lena’s name and Lena brings her bag closer to her body before bringing her sunglasses from the top of her head to cover her eyes.

“I saw it in your inbox, yes.” Jess keeps scanning the area as they walk, her eyes hard as she glares at the paparazzi which begin to move a little closer. “Since it didn't pertain to L-Corp, I didn't open it.” Richard opens the car door for them and Jess ushers her in first. Once they're settled, they both find themselves relaxing into the seats and Jess gives Lena’s hand a small squeeze. “What'd she say?”

Lena rolls her head to the side, intending only to get rid of some of the ache, but instead she lets her head rest on the cool glass. “She asked what I wanted to know.” She hears Jess make a small huff of a noise and it makes her smirk. “Glad to know you find it infuriatingly vague as well.”

“You already know about her,” Jess exclaims. “My background check was  _ incredibly  _ thorough and Kara’s research was very fruitful.”

“Well she doesn't know I practically stalked her,” Lena says and Jess simply rolls her eyes.

“You're Lena Luthor, she should assume you did.”

Lena chuckles and sits straight again. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and, after texting Kara that they're already half way home, hands the device to Jess. “Read it for yourself.”

It doesn't take long and when Jess is finished, she has the oddest expression on her face. “This seems so…”

Lena takes her phone back, supplying, “Professional?” Jess nods. “That's what Kara said too.” Lena glances out the window and wishes, not for the first time today, that she could just unhook her bra. She gets her fingers beneath the underwire, distractedly pulling it away from where it's begun to dig into the top of her stomach. “But, well… I'm not sure I can blame her. She didn't know she was adopted.”

“There could have been some more… enthusiasm,” Jess asserts, typing at her phone. Lena’s own phone trills and she looks to see that her morning conference call has been delegated to Marilyn and she's now scheduled to go shopping for more clothes. 

“Trying to tell me something,” Lena teases.

“I'm tired of seeing you dig around in your bras,” Jess mutters. She puts her phone to sleep, returning her attention to Lena. “She just sounds incredibly detached.”

Lena shrugs, fingers coming to drum on her stomach. “She didn't know,” Lena repeats softly. “I'm not sure I would've reacted well either.” A soft sigh escapes her just as the car pulls up to the building. Kara’s waiting outside with a grin, arms lined with grocery totes. Lena opens the door before Richard even attempts to get out. “Darling, why didn't you just go upstairs?”

“I was literally just walking up when I saw the car,” Kara says. She leans down to brush her lips against Lena’s, then leans further down to look around Lena. “Hi, Jess!” Standing straight once more, Kara tries to take Lena’s hand in hers but with all the groceries and Lena’s own bags, it doesn't work.

Jess wiggles out from the car and settles herself on Lena’s other side, though she leans around her friend to get a good look at Kara. “What do you think of the email?”

Lena rolls her eyes and heads into the building, the girls falling in step behind her. Kara repeats what Lena already knows; Quinn sounds distant but at least she responded and seems willing to have an open dialogue. Jess asks something then that Lena can't quite hear but Lena just quietly removes herself from the conversation. She focuses instead on Mrs. Sutton who is currently trying to rewrap some yarn that appears to have unspooled. “Let me help,” she says softly as she approaches the elevators. The blue yarn is mostly in a pile on the floor so Lena scoops it up before anyone could unwittingly step on it.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Sutton husks out. She keeps wrapping the yarn around two of her extended fingers, the ball in Lena’s hand getting smaller gradually. “How much longer have you got?”

“Four or so months.”

Mrs. Sutton nods. “I never cared much for babies.” Lena blinks. Mrs. Sutton has lived in this building even longer than Lena has and Lena knows the woman had visits from her children at least once a week. “Always adopted older.”

“You adopted,” Lena asks, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. The older woman nods again and the elevator dings before them. They wait for a few people to file out, exchanging pleasantries with the people they know before getting on the lift with Kara and Jess. “Did your children know they were adopted?”

“Of course, not one of them was younger than twelve when I got them,” Mrs. Sutton answers briskly. “I didn't raise idiots.”

Lena can feel her cheeks warm. “Of course,” she parrots. 

Jess and Kara have moved on to talking about something else now and Lena thinks to take a step back to be with them, but there's still a mass of yarn in her hands. She tries to keep her sigh silent but Mrs. Sutton looks up at her after a moment. Her hands don't stop moving as she asks, “Is there really a baby in there?”

Kara quiets immediately behind them, Lena completely awash with the adrenaline that courses through Kara’s body at Mrs. Sutton’s words. “Why would I pretend to be pregnant,” Lena asks with a soft, slightly forced chuckle. “Would you like to feel?” The baby has just started waking up for the day and his movements are strong, at least to Lena. It's refreshing to be able to  _ offer  _ to have someone feel instead of strangers just touching her body without permission. 

But Mrs. Sutton shakes her head, eyes widening at the question. “I'll believe you,” she mutters, finishing the rewrap of her yarn. Kara relaxes behind her, resumes her conversation with Jess, and Lena feels tension deep from her shoulders. The elevator slows and the yarn disappears into a truly gaudy bag that hangs from Mrs. Sutton’s wrist. “I hope your baby will be…” 

Lena can feel Kara tense again but before her wife can go into full protective mode, Lena puts a gentle hand on Mrs. Sutton’s shoulder. “Thank you,” Lena says. The old woman looks at her, a little affronted at the brush off, but then the elevator doors open and off she goes to her own apartment.

“Well, I'm not sure I can say I like everyone in our building anymore,” Kara says after a moment. The elevator is already on it's way up to their floor and Lena quirks an eyebrow as she turns to saddle up next to Kara’s side.

“You've never had a problem with her before,” Lena points out.

“She didn't accuse you of faking being pregnant before,” Kara returns and Jess tries to hide a smirk by ducking her head. “Can you imagine what it'll be like when he’s here? She'll probably complain if he fusses!”

Lena rolls her eyes affectionately and presses a kiss to Kara’s cheek. “Doesn't mama bear look good on her, Jess?” Kara blushes, preens, even as her hand on Lena’s back tenses briefly. It's exhausting, this continual struggle between the both of them that they won't be good enough, but it feels so natural to have such an enormous amount of faith in Kara, to see how great Kara will be with their son. Lena supposes that's how it feels for Kara too.

The elevator slows then alerts the trio with a ding before the doors slide open. “Now that we’re away from other ears,” Jess starts. “Can we circle back to this Quinn business?”

Lena opens the front door, feeling a little heavier at the mention of her sister. She expects Kara to back her up on the suggestion of no sister talk until after dinner, but as soon as she turns and looks at Kara, she's met with her wife’s wide, gentle grin and imploring eyes. Lena sighs softly and Kara kisses her cheek as she passes, Jess taking Lena’s bag from her to hang on the hook by the door. “I don't know what to ask,” Lena says, repeating what they both already know. She refrains from admitting that she can only think of basic questions that she doesn't doubt would come across as professional as well.

She follows after the girls to the kitchen, looking in the first grocery bag she sees. Dark chocolate covered cashews sit on top and her eyes go wide, most of her irritation fading in an instant. Kara eyes her, amused, when she rips open the package immediately. “You know the best way to get to know someone,” Jess says from her spot at the bar. Lena raises an eyebrow and tries not to moan as she bites into a handful of nuts. She can feel Kara begin to move a little faster around her, putting things away with an anxious sort of urgency. Jess, on the other hand, sits straight with her hands clasped tight together. She clears her throat.  “Over lunch.”

“You are both mad if you think I'm just going to suggestion grabbing a meal together,” Lena exclaims, most of her ire directed at Jess since Kara has conveniently taken this moment to return their reusable bags to their spot by the door. “Firstly, she's in Metropolis-”

“Where you have a meeting two weeks from now,” Jess says.

Lena’s eyes drop into a glare. “A meeting that I am  _ teleconferencing  _ to.”

“But one that you could attend in person instead!”

Kara places her hand at the small of her back and Lena almost feels bad for glaring at her wife when Kara’s smile shrinks. “We could visit Clark, too.” That itself is a flimsy excuse if Lena’s ever heard one.

“I'm going to change,” Lena says. Kara looks at her, eyes creased with worry, and a small puff of air escapes Lena’s lungs. “She just found out I existed. Let her get used to the  _ idea _ of me first.” She finds Kara’s arm and gives it a short squeeze before heading to their bedroom. 

Lena gets out of her clothes with relative ease though her bra practically flings itself from her body once she undoes the hooks. The baby seems to do a victory stretch once she's shucked her skirt, his feet pressing so hard at the side of her stomach, she can see her stomach contort with the movement. It's strange to look at, to know that there's something else in control of part of her body and Lena shivers, the disconnect between herself and her child surfacing in her mind.

Padding into the closet, Lena crouches, ungracefully, in front of the box bearing her mother's name. She still hasn't found it in her to open it but the urge is there, always pulsing beneath her fingertips when she gets like this. When she feels like a failure as a mother.

She could, too, ask Quinn about her own pregnancy. Exchange an email like sisters would, lament about her anxieties in hopes of finding that she's not crazy and that her sister felt all this too. Lena sighs softly. They're not by any stretch close enough for that yet and the idea of being so honest with someone she doesn't even know makes her even more anxious. Not to mention Lena really has no clue what came of Quinn’s pregnancy. God forbid she bring up something awful just as she's basically introducing herself to the woman.

Lena stands before she can fall on her butt and grabs for one of Kara’s shirts. She tugs it on, the fabric tighter than it's been around her stomach. She sighs and then slips into a pair of sweats before heading back to the kitchen, ignoring the way the baby pushes at her stomach until Jess asks to feel.

\--

Quinn dials on muscle memory.

There’s a voice in the back of her head, worrying that they changed their number, but Quinn refuses to waver. Her free hand stretches and grips anxiously around her pen and her foot taps, taps, taps but she doesn’t hang up, doesn’t pull the phone away from her face in contemplation. She listens to the rhythmic ringing until one ring is cut short, replaced by the tail end of a throat clearing. “What's wrong?”

Quinn swallows thickly. “I'm a mess.”

There's a short breath, almost like a laugh. “You're calling me, Quinn,” Erin says. “I already know that means you're a mess.”

It shouldn't make her smile but it does, corners of her lips ticking upward despite everything. Quinn relaxes in her seat, the chair creaking under her movement. “You're not busy are you?”

“I wouldn't have answered if I was.” Quinn nods even though Erin can't see her. “What's wrong,” they repeat and Quinn looks around her office as she tries to get the words to come to her.

She starts drawing circles on the paper beneath her pen, does her best to keep following the same line until a divot is made and her pen stays, unmoving from the trail she's created. “I,” she begins, just so they don't think she's hung up. There are lots of things she could say. She could start with the fact that she's adopted. She could say she misses them even though she thinks that's a lie. She could talk about Beth, which is something she could barely do when they were together. Quinn doesn't settle on anything but, “I'm not sure I'm actually living,” is what comes out of her mouth. Her whole body tenses the moment she processes what she said but it's followed immediately by a strange sort of relief. Erin stays silent, gives her time just like they always did, and Quinn closes her eyes tight. “I thought I was happy. Work is great, friends are great, my mom-” Quinn takes a deep breath and then forces herself to look around her office. She will  _ not _ cry in her office.

“Did something happen to your mom, Quinn?” They sound so concerned, still, after two years, and it makes Quinn feel almost worse.

“She's not my mom,” Quinn whispers, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “I'm adopted.” She sniffs. “Apparently.”

“Oh, Quinn,” Erin starts and there's such pity laced in their words that makes Quinn want to scream. “Sorry. You don't-” Erin sighs. “When did you find out?”

“About a month ago,” Quinn answers. There's a surge of pain between her eyes and she drops her pen to massage her forehead. “I haven't talked to my mom in a month and I'm floundering. I'm so  _ angry  _ at her but I…” Quinn scoffs at herself. “I'm thirty years old and questioning my entire life, why? Because I'm not talking to my, not even legitimate, mother?”

“Q, you talk to your mom at least once a week. It's normal for you to feel off kilter when you're not,” Erin tries and Quinn has to stomp down a growl.

“She's not my mom.”

Erin sighs. Quinn doesn't miss that sigh. “She's your  _ mom _ , Quinn. Don't be so obtuse,” Erin scoffs. She does her level best to not let the annoyance rise in her chest. This is why she had called Erin. She wanted their input, their opinion. She wanted someone who knew her in ways Santana didn’t. She knows, too, that Erin is right. “Have you talked to her about it?”

Quinn leans back in her chair until it creaks. “You know I haven’t.”

Erin laughs, not unkindly, before letting out a breath. “Remember when your mom stopped talking to you for a week?” Quinn’s eyebrows furrow and she sits a little straighter as she tries to think of the last time she didn’t talk with Judy. “Ah, what was it… Something to do with your sister?”

A lightbulb goes off and Quinn starts nodding, unsure of how she forgot about it before. “Yeah, yeah. Frannie wanted us to go to the baby’s christening. I refused and Mom got mad.” It’d been their biggest fight in years and she remembers being livid that her mom was falling for whatever Frannie was trying to pull. She hadn’t even invited Judy to the baby shower or the hospital when she gave birth, but suddenly wanted them both around? A different kind of irritation blooms within her.

“It still gets on your nerves doesn’t it,” Erin comments and Quinn can just picture the wry smile pulling at their lips, the bright look in their brown eyes at catching Quinn in her own feelings. “You were a wreck that whole week. You don’t know how to function without talking to her.”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “I was-”

Erin cuts her off. “You’re not balanced without her. So get your head out of your ass and talk to your mom. You’ll feel better after.”

“I’m  _ mad _ ,” Quinn asserts. She pretends her heel doesn’t stomp down on the ground like she’s some sort of petulant child.

“And you can be mad,” Erin says, softer than they were a few moments ago. “But you’re spiralling. We haven’t talked in actual, literal  _ years _ , Quinn.”

Quinn sighs, suddenly feels like an idiot for calling. What right did she even have to call Erin? She shouldn’t expect them to be willing to deal with her emotional freak outs anymore. “I’m sorry,” she says. “This isn’t your job anymore.”

“If I didn’t feel like dealing with your shit, I wouldn’t have picked up.” It’s hard to swallow that Erin is still so willing to help her. Quinn’s not sure that if the tables were turned, she would have answered their call. “Stop beating yourself up.”

Quinn lets out a wet, hollow laugh. “I’m glad I broke up with you,” she says, swallowing thickly. “I was right. You do deserve someone more than my mess.”

Erin, in all their wonderful, infuriating, glory, ignores the comment completely, choosing instead to ask, “Tell me what makes you happy each day.” Quinn groans and Erin is quick to click their tongue. “Just humor me, okay? I picked up your call so you can indulge me.” With a huff, Quinn talks about her classes, about the work she’s doing to turn the department into a force to be reckoned with. She talks about her work with the the women’s center and about the runs she still takes every Sunday morning along the river. She thinks to mention dinner nights with Santana and Brittany and of stress baking while singing at the top of her lungs but decides against it. That feels too personal for the two of them now so she swallows those tidbits down, tells Erin instead of curling up with books when she has time. “Look at all these things that make you happy, Quinn… You’re okay. You just need your mom.”

Quinn thinks of the letter still sitting untouched on the floor in her kitchen and her stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought of reading what her mother has to say. She doesn't feel ready but she knows Erin is right, that she’ll have to talk to Judy eventually.  _ Soon _ , she thinks. Otherwise she’ll go even crazier.

A ping rings out and Quinn looks at her email. A new one. From Lena.

She clears her throat. “Thank you, Erin,” Quinn says softly. “Really. I mean it.”

“You don't have to be a stranger, you know?” Erin laughs a little. Quinn can practically see the way Erin’s probably shrugging too, wonders briefly too if they're still wearing that too worn jean jacket, wonders if they kept the patches Quinn sewed on. “But I won't be surprised to never hear from you again.”

“I wouldn't say never,” Quinn drawls. She clicks open the email from Lena. “I could have another break down before I ever find someone else who knows me like you.”

Erin laughs harder and when they say their goodbyes, Quinn has the semblance of a smile on her face.

She puts her phone down on the desk and runs her hands over her face, suddenly tired. She’ll have to call it early today. 

Quinn takes a deep breath and slips her glasses down on to her nose, blinking twice to let her eyes adjust. The email is short and simple and not at all what she was expecting. 

_ How was your day? _

_ \-- _

She knows the only reason James is still here is because Kara told him to stay with her.

Lena purses her lips, lets her head fall against the back of the couch. James is cleaning up the dishes from dinner, humming along to whatever song is streaming from his phone.

She’d been restless the entire evening and, though she knew she was by no means fooling Kara into thinking she was okay, Lena didn’t think she had acted so strangely to warrant James acting as Kara’s eyes while she went and saved the world. “You know, you really don't have to stay,” she calls and she gets a soft, rumbling laugh in return.

“Kara’d kick my ass if I left you alone,” he says. The faucet is turned off, the dishwasher closed, and then James is in her peripheral, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats. “But if it makes you feel any better, I think she's overreacting too.” He falls down on the other end of the couch, legs coming to prop on the coffee table.

“Thank goodness someone else does.” She's lost interest in the documentary she turned on and she thinks to turn it to the news before deciding that wouldn't help her relax either. James is tapping away at his phone, the urge to pick her own up off the table skyrocketing. But no, she will stay strong. She will not act like some school girl, frantically checking her phone to see if she's gotten a response.

What is she so wound up for? All she did was ask a simple question. Compared to what Kara and Jess had suggested she send back, it was practically underwhelming. Lena sighs and readjusts, grabbing a pillow from under James’ elbow and shoving it behind her back. The action pulls him from his phone and Lena is sure he’s looking at her confused, or maybe affronted, though outrageously so, but she keeps her eyes on her phone. It hasn't lit up since six, which is when her filters turn on, allowing only the most important emails to be sent through. She had added Quinn’s to that list as soon as she sent out her letter. 

“Do you need to go for a run?” Lena blinks and turns to look at James with her eyebrows pulled together. “You've been jiggling one leg or the other all night,” he explains, chin tipping towards her outstretched legs. Indeed, her left leg is currently bouncing from where it hangs over the right and Lena purses her lips once more. “Also, I'm worried little man is going to get brain damage from how hard you're drumming your fingers.”

Her hand stills, eyes moving from her legs to where her hand now rests against her stomach. She hadn't even realized she’d been moving. Lena groans, hands moving to her thighs once both her feet at planted on the wood flooring. “I emailed my sister.” It feels strange to tell him before Kara but it hadn't felt like appropriate dinner conversation and she had only sent the email right before James and Kara arrived from work. James’ face is too slow to turn into shock and before he can stutter out something, Lena rolls her eyes. “I know Kara told you, it's all right.”

James deflates with a breath, hands relaxing around his phone. “Thank god,” he murmurs and Lena’s lips twist into a fond smirk at her wife’s best friend. “Is that why you've been acting all jittery?”

Lena nods as she glances back at her phone again. “I'm rethinking what I said.”

There's a moment of silence between them, David Attenborough’s calming voice the only thing filling the space. James shift suddenly then, his own phone bouncing on the couch cushions when the tosses it. “You need to get out of your head,” he declares as he stands. “Up and at ‘em, Lena.”

She rolls her eyes fondly but when he crosses his arms against her chest, she lets out a short laugh. “Oh, you're not joking.” He shakes his head and it only prompts her to do the same. “I'm not going running at eight in the evening!”

“It's not like you'll be running alone.”

“I am far too comfortable to go out for a run,” she says. Lena purposefully rearranges herself on the couch, letting her back curve and her shoulders slouch, her legs stretching out in front of her.

James eyebrows raise as she halfheartedly glares at him and their stand off ends in his abrupt, restrained laugh. “How uncomfortable are you right now?”

Her glare intensifies and she scoffs as she pushes herself up off the couch. Her back aches but she will not give him the satisfaction of saying that outloud. “I'm thirsty,” she states as she passes him and when he laughs again, she swats his back. “Dick.”

It only makes him laugh harder and she rolls her eyes as they both make their way to the fridge. “Email her again,” James says, the words far too casual for what he's suggesting she do. Her hands pause over the cranberry juice jug and looks at him incredulously over her shoulder. He shrugs as he sits down on the bar stool.  “Just write whatever you're thinking about. I'm sure she’ll understand.”

There's a swoop and then the slight skip of footfall, the pair looking then to see Kara stepping inside. “Who’ll understand,” she asks.

As happy as she is to see her wife, Lena wrinkles her nose. “Shower,” she commands, closing the fridge pointedly. “God, you smell awful.” 

Kara’s face scrunches, a flicker of genuine hurt in her features. “You make it sound like I crawled around in the sewer,” Kara grumbles.

Lena softens, wanting to touch Kara in some way, to push her hair back or to give her a kiss. With another breath, she's attacked again by the smell of gasoline and she shakes her head discretely, hand coming to rest beneath her nose. “I'm sorry,” she says as she begins to breathe through her mouth. It's the wrong move though because now she can taste the smell and she shivers. “Please go shower. It's too strong for me.” 

Kara nods and clearly doesn't hide the slightly widened eyes she sends James. Lena thinks if she rolls her eyes anymore tonight they'll stay that way but she can't help it. When Kara looks back at her, this time with a cheeky grin, Lena sighs. Taking a big breath and holding it in, she goes to kiss Kara’s dirty cheek before immediately turning back around. “Shower,” she repeats as she makes her way back to James. “Now.” She grabs to shoulder of James’ tee and buries her nose in it, inhaling deep, willing herself to smell something other than her stinky wife.

Both James and Kara laugh but Kara’s laugh is thankfully retreating. Lena gives herself another moment before she deems it safe enough to breathe normally. She thinks to complain about being pregnant but it feels strange to do that in front of James, like it would make her seem ungrateful after what he did to help. James throws an arm over her shoulders and it clears any other thought from her mind. “Kara’ll be better at this than me,” he starts and she looks down at him, biting down on her lip. “But if you think you, I don't know, overstepped, just say that. I'm sure she’ll understand.”

Lena sags, biting her lip harder before letting it go. She doesn't know how to explain that she feels like she completely misstepped. She nods nonetheless, adding a small smile for James’ benefit. “Thank you,” she says and he smiles back at her warmly, gives her shoulder a small squeeze.

“Now that Kara’s back,” he says and she gives him room to stand. “Tell her bye for me?”

“Of course.”

By the time James gathers his things and leaves, Kara is padding into the living room in her robe, wet hair hanging free around her shoulders. “Do I still smell or am I allowed to be by you now,” Kara asks, setting her hands in Lena’s shoulders from behind the couch.

“Sorry,” Lena says again. She looks up at Kara, hand coming to hold one on her shoulder. “I'm just extra sensitive because of this thing,” she finishes, free hand patting her extended belly. “Come sit.”

Kara rounds the couch and though she tries to pull Lena into her, Lena makes a point to hold Kara. She waits until Kara is settled against her side, head against her chest and arm protective under her stomach before letting her fingers thread in Kara’s wet hair, working carefully to get out any tangles. “What was wrong,” Kara asks her. 

Lena looks at her cellphone. “I emailed Quinn.” She expects Kara to pop up from her position but instead she just lays on Lena a little heavier. She feels grounded, less anxious, even though nothing has really changed since earlier. When Kara stays silent, Lena continues. “I feel a little silly for what I said.”

“And what’s that,” Kara asks. Fingers hook into the waist of her leggings and Lena concentrates on the soft stroking at her hip.

“I asked how her day was.”

Kara hums. “That doesn't seem silly.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Lena’s lips. “That's because whenever anyone asks you that, you answer honestly.”

That does get Kara’s head up. “Why would someone ask that if they didn't mean it,” Kara complains, not for the first time.

Lena kisses her briefly before urging her to lay back down. “I don't tell complete strangers how my day was.”

Kara sighs. “That's silly.” Lena presses another kiss to Kara’s hairline. “Email her again then. Tell her you actually want to know.” Before Lena can explain that she doesn't think that will help either, Kara’s swinging a leg out, foot scooting Lena’s phone to the edge of the table. It takes some maneuvering since Kara seems set on moving away from Lena as little as possible, but she is able to reach out and grab Lena’s phone. “Aha,” Kara exclaims in a soft victory cry. She puts the phone in Lena’s free hand and then settles comfortably again. “My eyes are closed. Write away, and I won't look.”

Lena laughs and she wants nothing more now to spend her evening wrapped up in her beautifully considerate wife. “You can look,” she murmurs as she opens up the email she sent Quinn. Kara shakes her head and Lena can make out the wrinkles around Kara’s eyes from where they're squeezed shut. 

She’ll pepper Kara in kisses after this email.

\--

Quinn doesn't realize how late it is until her phone chirps with an alert and she's forced to look away from the paper she's grading. It's half past midnight, much later than she had anticipated staying up. She has a faculty meeting early tomorrow and if she doesn't go to sleep soon, she’ll be an absolute wreck in the morning.

She finishes up the last few pages of the paper, gives the grade on the bottom of the last page in red ink. Papers moved to her bedside table so finally grabs her phone from where it was hiding under her sheet. 

It's another email from Lena.

Quinn swallows thickly but opens it anyway.

_ You must think I'm mad for asking how your day was. I'm not sure anyone but my wife actually answers that question truthfully, genuinely, when it's posed by a complete stranger. But I, truthfully, genuinely, want to know you, Quinn. I suppose I could tell you how my day was first but I don't want to waste your time if you don't care. And if I'm being honest, I'm not sure I can comfortably tell someone I don't know about my day either. _

_ I hope you don't mind that I seem to be a bit of a mess. It must be quite a different picture than how the press paints me. _

Quinn lets her phone go dark in her hand and she blinks down at it before she starts laughing. It feels strange for laughter, her laughter, to be filling up the space in her apartment but it does anyway. She wakes her phone and closes the email, but not before giving the email another once over, a laugh bubbling in her throat.

She opens FaceTime and hits Santana’s name. It only rings once before Santana's face fills her screen. From the looks of it, Santana hasn't gone to bed either, hair still piled on top of her head like it was earlier today. “What's up,” her friend asks, definitely distracted. Santana hasn't even looked away from her laptop. Quinn laughs again and that does get Santana's attention. “Are you having a breakdown?”

She shakes her head, laughter still spilling from her lips. “My sister emailed me,” she says, trying to school her face into something more restrained. Judging from how Santana is looking at her, Quinn doesn't think she succeeds. 

“Again?”

Quinn nods this time. “And I think she’s just as crazy as me.”

\--

Kara’s slipped out of bed for some other heroing antic and Lena tries desperately to just go back to sleep. When she spends ten minutes just laying in bed with her eyes closed, she huffs and takes her phone from the bedside table. She's gotten another email and her heart thumps loud in her chest when she sees it's from Quinn.

_ Well if I wasn't sure we were related before... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr @idontneedtobeforgiven


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! This chapter is super massive and has a little bit of everything. This will also probably be the last update for the year because I have a) finals b) secret santa stuff to work on and c) my wife is coming in and so a lot of my time is going to be spent in bed with her! So I really hope everyone has fantastic holidays and that this chapter doesn't disappoint!

She tells Lena things that she's not sure she’d have the courage to in person.

Quinn tells her, easily, about her work. While she's not sure the other woman is particularly enthused or entertained by Quinn’s excited detailing of Irish literature, Lena responds kindly enough, mentions that her wife would be interested in reading some of her papers. Lena mentions too, that she found a lot of Old Irish books when going through their mother’s things.

Quinn doesn't respond to that part.

She does, too, talk about how difficult this reveal has been for her. Quinn writes about her now fractured relationship with her mother. She does not admit to the fact that it took her an hour of staring at the phrasing before remembering what Erin said and leaving it as is. She also doesn't get terribly specific, just states that it's been hard to accept and colors some painful memories in an even more disturbing light.

Santana and Brittany get mentioned, of course, in passing, when Lena asks about her day. Describing Santana is not something Quinn has ever been capable of and Brittany isn't any easier, so she leaves them less colored in than is probably fair. Lena speaks mostly of Kara but her emails are peppered with a lot more names than Quinn’s are and Quinn does her level best to not feel self conscious about her friend group size.

It's been nice, seeing an email from Lena in her inbox every morning, to get a personal email as opposed to work and spam and whatever email lists she's subscribed to.

Of course there's also…

A new unread email from Beth sits on top of Lena’s. Guilt washes over her immediately. It's an ugly feeling, one she knows she's responsible for inflicting, and though she's already brought her coffee mug up to her lips, she suddenly can't stand the thought of taking a sip. Quinn sets her cup back down and closes her email, choosing instead to get ready before anything else.

Climbing off the bed, she pads her way into the en suite, starts the shower before she moves to undress. It's gotten a little warmer but there's still a chill at night, her feet encased in fluffy otter socks that Brittany got her for Christmas. They're the first thing off, bundled together and placed next to her sink. Her pants and underwear get pushed down next and she steps out of them as she pulls her shirt over her head. Quinn tries to stay focused on what she's doing, of every action that's about to come next. She needs to keep her mind busy. She needs to be distracted.

The shower is a little warmer than she usually likes it but that's better, she thinks. She goes through her whole routine without thinking about her email or California or her mother. Her mind doesn't wander either when she's putting on a little make up or when she's trying to find her good pair of work out leggings. It's even easier too to block out everything once she slips her headphones in her ears, giving her running playlist a single tap so that it's the only thing she can hear.

It doesn't take her long to get down to the stretch of beach behind her building and Quinn settles into an easy rhythm. Her feet sink into the wet sand, works her muscles a little harder than pavement would but isn’t as intense as when she jogs on dry sand. It doesn’t burn at first, takes a mile or so for her legs to really start to feel it and by then her lungs are working harder too.

There’s not many others on the beach this morning and the people she does pass walk along leisurely, taking in the sight of the sun emerging from the horizon. Quinn does her best not to pay attention to it. She knows it’s nothing short of beautiful to watch. To see the ocean, so calm, begin to glitter under the rays of the rising sun. To watch the dark fall away, shadows shrinking and dark night sky melting into a mix of reds and oranges until a pale blue slides into place.

It would be wonderful to watch but sunrises are not for Quinn.

When she reaches the pier, she doesn’t stop to catch her breath or to stretch a little before starting on the way back. Quinn simply turns, away from the ocean and the light, and takes off back to her place.

She wonders briefly if she can keep herself busy enough all day that she’ll forget all about Beth’s email.

\--

When she wakes, Kara is gone.

It's not out of the ordinary for that to happen, but with a glance around the room, Lena notices Kara’s suit flung on the ground, sitting in the doorway of their closet, the soft light illuminating the fabric.

Lena stretches an arm to Kara’s side of the bed and finds the sheet cool. It takes a considerable amount of movement to get herself out of the nest of pillows and blankets Lena’s constructed in an effort to sleep, but she is able to sit up, eyes adjusting to being open. Their bedroom door is closed but Lena can make out faint light bouncing off the hard wood floor beneath the door. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Lena slides her feet into her slippers and stands. She thinks to grab for her robe but the night is the perfect sort of temperature for her now and so she takes off down the hall in one of Kara’s shirts and some of the truly grotesque looking pregnancy underwear she bought last week with Jess.

The lamp above the stove is on but they leave that on every night and when Lena looks to what will be their son’s nursery, she finds the door closed and a bright light pouring out beneath the door. The source of what she saw from bed.

It's useless to sneak up on Kara but Lena still turns the knob in her hand slowly, opens the door as quietly as she can. She squeezes her eyes shut, the light being too much to handle so soon after waking, but after a few blinks she’s able to take in the sight before her.

The few pieces of furniture that have taken residence in the nursery have all been pushed to the middle, a tarp thrown down to cover the floors of the far wall. She can't make out what's been sketched but Kara is painting with such a focused precision that Lena knows her wife must've sketched something first.

The wall itself is a soft sort of pink but Kara is painting with silver, sharp lines running from the floor up to Kara’s eyeline. It looks familiar in a way that Lena can't place and so she stays, leaning in the doorway, watching as Kara continues to paint within the lines she’s drawn. There's a few more paint cans near Kara’s feet, all unopened and small. She wonders briefly when Kara got them, doesn't remember seeing them in here before, but then Kara is taking a large step back. She cocks her head to the side, paint brush still in hand as she pulls her leggings higher up her hips, the silver streaking the black fabric briefly. “It's not right,” Kara says and her voice instantly has Lena standing straight up.

“Darling?”

Kara shakes her head. “It's not right,” she repeats, words cracking as they leave her throat. Lena is by Kara’s side as fast as she can and her heart absolutely breaks at what she sees. 

Kara’s cheeks are wet with tears, forehead creased and bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Her blue eyes are red and searching across the wall in front of them frantically. The paintbrush snaps in her fist, the bristles falling to the floor and coating Lena’s foot. Kara’s chest starts rising and falling, heavy, and a noisy exhale comes out of her nose before a sob escapes. “It's not clear anymore,” Kara continues. Lena plants her palm above Kara’s heart, ignores the way the baby shifts towards Kara too, hand pushing out like he's trying to touch her. Kara brings her free hand up to rub along her brow, eyes screwing shut. “I keep trying to draw it but I just… it's not right.”

Lena swallows hard, looks around the room. Each wall is painted, each sketched with different scenes. The wall with the door even has a half painted scene, but there's a big streak of blue cutting across the lines. It's hard to make out what Kara has planned on the walls but when Lena looks between the two with the most completed, she wraps her arms around Kara, internally cursing the way she can't get close enough. “ _ Oh _ , Kara.”

Kara shakes her head again, this time more frantically than before, and the next breath she takes is staggering. “I'm fine, I'm fine,” she lies and Lena’s face twists at the words. Her entire being is telling her to bring Kara closer, to tell her it's okay, but she forces herself to take a step back when Kara gently puts her hands on Lena’s arm. Kara’s head hangs, one hand going to the back of her neck, nails pricking the skin.

It's been years since Kara had drawn out memories of Krypton for her or herself. She remembers watching Kara paint scenes in her loft on tiny canvases the size of postcards. Never any bigger than that and Lena remembers Kara saying that the glowing warmth of Rao was easier for her to capture like that. She loved how she could cradle the memories in her hands. Lena knows she has a few, tucked in a box at the back of the closet, mixed in with other tokens of their relationship that she hadn't been willing to part with. She has half a mind to go get the box now, to find Kara’s carefully crafted view of her home, but Lena can't leave Kara like this. Not while she's still trying to calm the tears staining her cheeks.

“We can go to the fortress of solitude, Kara. I know you'd be able to access som-” Kara manages a scoff between her cries, looking up at the ceiling in a way Lena isn't sure is annoyance or sadness. 

“I know what Krypton looks like,” Kara says, finally dropping the broken brush handle. Her fingers tangle in the blonde pile of hair on her head, pulls at the strands until it falls around her, gives her a curtain to hide behind. “I know I could easily see some stupid, generic version of Krypton. But I can't.” Kara swallows hard and when Lena approaches again, this time moving so she can look at Kara head on, she notices the right clench of Kara’s jaw. She waits until Kara takes three deep breaths, eyes screwed tightly shut, before Lena reaches out with a sure, soft hand. She cradles Kara’s cheek and she bites the inside of her cheek when Kara almost pulls away but relaxes the instant Kara leans into her touch. “My memories aren't so clear anymore, Lena.” She opens her eyes, blue eyes so full of tears they look cracked. “I'm forgetting my  _ home. _ ”

The words make Lena’s heart feel like caving in and she's utterly distraught by the fact that she can do nothing to help soothe this pain in Kara. “I want to show him, Lena, but I'm  _ forgetting _ .”

Kara’s hand wraps around her wrist tight enough to almost hurt. Lena keeps her face passive, even as Kara realizes the extent of her strength, wordlessly puts her free hand over Kara’s to keep the steady, aching pressure. “Let me share the pain,” Lena murmurs. Kara’s brow furrows though it's not the first time Lena’s made such a request and, though she loosens her grip, Lena knows she holds on tighter than she normally would.

“The last child of Krypton,” Kara scoffs and the anguish that had marked Kara’s features twist into anger. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand, head shaking as she avoids Lena’s eyes. “Letting her planet die once and for all.”

“ _ Stop it _ ,” Lena says, voice pitching with her own dander. “You are not letting Krypton die.” Kara’s eyes jerk to her and the look on her face must be worse than Lena thought, because Kara’s gaze softens. “Memories are  _ awful _ because they will always fade. No matter how hard we grasp at them, they fuzz at the edges and soften too much. But you are  _ not _ letting Krypton die just because it's harder to paint it now.” Lena brings up her other hand, threads it into Kara’s messy hair until she can cup the back of her head. She guides Kara’s forehead to her own, their son kicking so violently between them that she knows Kara must feel him too, deep in her gut. “Krypton cannot die when you let its language fall from your lips each day. It cannot die when you pray to Rao. It cannot die when I know for a fact that there are pieces of your heart emblazoned around this world.”

Kara’s next breath is sharp but she continues to unfold at Lena’s words. Her palm comes up to grip at Lena’s waist, and though it shakes, it is a comfort to have Kara no longer keeping her away. “Remember that piece you did for the Alien Human Alliance benefit auction? Floor to ceiling landscape of the view of your father’s office in Kandor?”

Kara nods. “From when my father would take me with,” she whispers and Lena smiles.

“And I have so many Kara Zor-El originals stowed away. Views from your childhood room. Of your mother working upon her pedestal… that time you went exploring along the dunes of the beach with Astra!” She squeezes the hand in Kara’s hair, pulls strong enough that Kara will feel the phantom presence keeping her there, with Lena. “I can't promise it will be the same, sweetheart. But I can promise to throw every memory of Krypton you've shared with the world at you every single day.” Kara’s eyes, still watery but the brightness returning to them nonetheless, stay steady with hers, bottom lip quivering slightly until Lena runs her thumb over it, gently traces the curves of Kara’s mouth. There's two deep, harrowing breaths taken, like Kara is trying to steel herself against her own emotions, and then Kara turns fluid beneath her touch and Lena wastes no time wrapping her arms tightly around her.

—

She makes it back to her office with no time to spare. In fact, she’s late for her own office hours but the chairs that line the wall in the hall are empty and Quinn lets out a short sigh of relief. She hates tardiness, hates being late, but she had gotten caught up discussing this week's readings with a student.

She gets her door open, tosses her bag down on the chair next to it and is halfway through taking her sweater off when her desk phone starts ringing. It startles her, makes her jump a little. Quinn laughs at herself and rolls her eyes. She still puts her office number on her syllabi but rarely does anyone actually call it. She picks the phone off the receiver and says, “This is Professor Fabray,” as she nestles the phone between her cheek and shoulder, pulling her sweater the rest of the way off. 

“I have a recital next week and I want you there.” Quinn’s entire body freezes up and Beth scoffs even though Quinn hasn’t even managed to take a breath. “I figured you haven’t read my emails and this way you couldn’t screen me.” Beth makes a small humming noise. “Or I figured you couldn’t screen me. I guess you could have caller ID on this phone but-” Beth clears her throat. There’s some rustling on the other end and Quinn has to will herself not to picture Beth, to try and imagine the room she’s grown up in. “I have a recital next week and I want you there,” Beth repeats. 

Quinn licks her lips, turns to sit on the edge of her desk. She knocks over something but she doesn’t turn to look. It’s not like there are pictures or anything personal littering her desk. “I,” Quinn stops to take a deep breath. Her sweater falls to the floor at her feet and she grips the phone in her hand so that it doesn’t drop. Her other arm wraps around her middle, firm under her chest. It feels harder to breathe but the only thing the feels safe is balling up. 

“I don’t want to reserve a ticket if you won’t come and today is the last day,” Beth continues in the absence of Quinn remembering how to speak. 

Her phone vibrates in the pocket of her skirt, an email, if Quinn’s judged the vibration count right. She fishes it out so that she has something else to focus on but when she pulls it out and sees Lena’s name on the sender line, she wishes she’d left it in her pocket.

“What is it for,” Quinn asks in a rush. She puts her cell down on the desk before bringing her feet up to the chair across from her. She thinks of the email she received from Shelby, about how Beth has been pulling away from things. She wonders what has stuck, considers briefly if this is a ruse to get Quinn over there. It’s probably unfair to think Beth is lying to her, but Quinn’s ability to trust still hasn’t rebounded.

“Piano,” Beth answers, short and sweet. There’s no mention of the piece she’ll be playing, no details at all, just the facts. It reminds Quinn of herself and she has to bite her lip to stop her mouth from quirking into a smirk.

Quinn goes to answer but her voice cracks, gets caught in her throat. She has to clear it before she says, carefully, “I’ll look at your emails now and see if I can make it work.” Before she can hear Beth sound disappointed, Quinn quickly adds, “I’ll let you know within the hour. If that gives you enough time?”

She thinks she hears Beth take a breath but there’s a big gust of wind that flitters through the phone. Quinn convinces herself that it was nothing more than that, or tries to anyway. “Yeah, that works.” A beat and then a soft, genuine, “Thank you, Quinn,” before Beth ends the call.

Quinn swallows hard as she sets the phone down on the receiver next to her. A student passes by her open door, making Quinn drop her feet back to the floor. She is nothing if not professional when on campus. She refuses to let her own bullshit get in the way of that.

She picks up her sweater and pulls it back on just so she has an excuse to wrap something around her. It’s too hot for it but Quinn knows she can ignore  _ almost _ anything and the room being too warm at the moment is easy to ignore. Quinn rounds her desk and sits in her chair, waking up her computer. Her email sits open, just as she left it, and Quinn reloads the page so that a dozen or so new emails pop up. She skips past the ones from her students, hesitates over the email Lena sent (twice in one day is unusual for them), settles on the most recent email from Beth.

Like the call, it’s devoid of detail. There’s a line before the date, time, and place, calling Quinn out on not reading the first email. It reminds Quinn of Puck, almost annoyingly so, but it’s not as if Beth is wrong. She did ignore it and Quinn had been blindsided by the invite, by the call, and it’s her own fault.

The recital is next week, on a Friday. 

She glances down at her calendar despite already knowing she’s free. 

Quinn clicks reply and tries not to throw up as she types “I’ll see you then.”

—

Kara arrives around one, a bag of take out in one hand, a brown paper bag in the other. Lena looks up from her laptop with soft eyes and an even softer smile. It’d been terrible to leave Kara this morning and Lena nearly didn’t. Work was busy but she wasn’t about to put it before Kara, not after last night. But Kara, too good at putting others before herself, had insisted Lena go once Supergirl had to save the day and Kara Danvers was tasked with writing about the heroics. 

Kara holds up the brown bag with a sheepish smile, her cheeks painted the faintest pink. “I made you lunch.”

Lena sets her palms on her desk and pushes off the exercise ball she’s taken to using as a chair. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Kara nods, murmurs, “I know,” as she makes her way to Lena. Lena offers her cheek, Kara’s customary way to greet her, but her wife puts the food down on the desk so that she’s free to wrap her arms around Lena’s neck. Kara stays at her side, presses every inch of her body against Lena’s and Lena finds herself exhaling loudly through her nose at the contact. “Can I kiss you properly,” Kara asks and Lena already has her head angled to meet Kara’s lips as she nods. She thinks to tell Kara that  _ of course _ she can but when her lips part, Kara is there, slotting her lips against Lena’s own, a strong hand coming to tangle in Lena’s hair at the base of her skull.

It aches to not be able to turn into Kara fully but her wife is holding on to her like a lifeline, kissing her like this is the last time she’ll be able to, and it has Lena torn between melting so sweetly against Kara and giving Kara everything she has right back. The result is a hard, messy kiss that smudges Kara’s lipstick and leaves Lena breathless. It’s a soft hand curling at Kara’s waist and Lena letting Kara carry a bit of her weight so that Lena can sink into Kara properly. It’s Kara licking into Lena’s mouth and stealing her breath as she all but picks Lena up. 

When they part, Lena almost laughs at her own breathlessness but Kara is still so close, nuzzles her nose against Lena’s. “One hell of a hello you have there,” Lena whispers, smiling when Kara hums around her own tiny grin. Lena fists her hand around Kara’s sweater and gives it a small tug. “Why are you feeling guilty?”

She watches Kara consider stuttering out a denial before settling on a soft sigh. “It’s not  _ guilt _ , necessarily.” Kara’s hand strokes along her spine and Lena waits patiently for her to gather the right words, Kara’s blue eyes tracing Lena’s features. “I think when we hit ten years I’ll stop feeling bad for melting down on you,” Kara says and her voice is light, almost teasing. It makes Lena laugh and press a kiss against her lips.

Maybe it would make others feel like a rotten wife but they’ve been together long enough for Lena to take offense at how difficult it can be for Kara to open up to her. So much of their lives had been spent bottling up their own emotions… it’s an unfortunately hard habit to break.

“Hence the homemade lunch,” Lena asks and Kara nods. 

Lena looks questioningly at the bag of take out and Kara blinks back at her. “I know takeout is harder for you to eat now but I’m still sad and want potstickers.”

Lena laughs, full bodied, and Kara wraps both arms around Lena once more for a firm hug. “What have we got then?” She unrolls the top of the bag and looks inside. There’s what she thinks is a sandwich wrapped in parchment paper, a small container of mixed fruit at the bottom, hidden underneath a yogurt. Lena inhaled deeply and then almost moans. “Is that a turkey and cranberry sandwich on-“

“On your disgusting multi grain, full of bird seed bread? It sure is,” Kara says, a playful grimace on her face when Lena looks up at her. Lena doesn’t even care at the moment because just the smell of the sandwich has her wanting to do dirty things to Kara in thanks.

“I love you,” she says instead. She immediately lets go of Kara, wiggles a bit so that she can pull out the sandwich. Kara laughs in her ear and, with a little nibble at her lobe, steps back to give Lena her space to devour. 

She’s so focused on unwrapping her sandwich and getting it in her mouth that she almost misses the way Kara pauses while unpacking her own meal. Lena looks up, lips already wrapped around her sandwich and sees Kara pushing her glasses into her hair. Lena munches down, chewing on the heavenly sandwich Kara made her as her eyes follow Kara’s, landing on the small canvas that sits next to a portrait of them from two Christmases ago. Kara swallows hard and audible. Her nose twitches from side to side as her mouth does the same, and Lena doesn’t miss the way her eyes have glazed over. 

Lena puts down her food, wiping any crumbs off her fingers. Her mouth begins to form her wife’s name but Kara shakes her head. Kara picks up her artwork, holds it solidly in her palms as her thumbs run over the swirling colors. It’s the first one Kara had ever showed her. It’s of Alura and Lara talking in what Lena knows now was Kara’s home. Rao shines so brightly behind them, the two nearly silhouettes in his light and Alura’s hand rests on Lara’s protruding stomach.

Kara lets out a wet breath. “I almost forgot about this,” she says softly. She stares down at the painting for a moment longer before looking at Lena. “When did you pull this out?”

“This morning, after you went to save the day.” Lena had pulled out every single one she had, already put a few up around their home. But that one she knew she had to take with her.

Lena wants the reminder that she’s doing something very few people did before her; she’s carrying a child of Krypton.

Kara puts the painting down where Lena had set it up and licks her lips. “Think you can play hooky for the rest of the day,” Kara asks carefully.

A smile quirks on her face. “Can you,” she returns. 

Kara takes her glasses into her hand so that she can shake out her hair before perching the frames back on her nose. Kara slides them down then, making Lena laugh despite the wet bedroom eyes Kara is giving her over the black glasses. “Haven’t you heard? I work from home more than any CatCo employee in history.”

Lena laughs again, loud, right in Kara’s face. “Lunch first, then home?” Kara nods, finally catching Lena’s cheek for a kiss.

—

She buys Quinn champagne which means she officially makes a bigger deal out of this Beth business than she did when Quinn got her promotion. “I didn’t think you’d ever sack up,” Santana exclaims happily from her spot in Quinn’s doorway.

The blonde levels her with a glare, dripping her pen onto the counter. Quinn’s eyes move over Santana’s shoulder and her face softens. “Brittany, what brings you here without Santana?” Brittany damn near chortles as she passes Santana. She wraps Quinn in a hug, squeezing tight, and Santana finds herself melting a little at the sight of her two blondes so close. Brittany has always been tactile and feeling, even when it made Santana uncomfortable, but it means so much to see Quinn give into Brittany so easily, freely. 

Brittany presses a kiss against Quinn’s lips before whispering something Santana can’t hear. It makes Quinn smile and Santana notices the way Quinn squeezes Brittany’s hip in acknowledgement. “We brought dinner,” Brittany says brightly as she straightens, keeping one arm looped around Quinn. 

“And booze, for toasting,” Santana adds, reaching into the bag at her wrist and pulling out the bottle. She gives it a little shake, even though she knows it will only make Quinn roll her eyes harder. 

“You two make it seem like I cured cancer,” Quinn drawls.

“This is better,” Santana assures. She steps forward, sets her bags down on the counter but keeps the bottle in her hand. “You’re not running away from your problems anymore!” Santana glances at Brittany and throws her a cheeky smile. “Never thought we’d live to see the day.”

“Babe,” Brittany warns. It’s Santana’s turn to roll her eyes but when she notices Quinn’s smirk, she flips her best friend off easily. “So, what is her recital for?”

Quinn huffs, a mixture of a laugh and something else. “Piano, which I thought she didn’t even play anymore.” 

Santana moves around the kitchen, pulling plates from the cabinet next to the fridge. “Really?” She turns and Brittany is there behind her. Even though she hadn’t even heard Brittany move close, her hands are already pushing the plates into Brittany’s waiting hands. She catches Quinn watching them for a moment before she blinks and looks down, stacking her papers neatly. “Are you sure there  _ is _ a recital?”

Quinn clears her throat. “I thought the same thing.”

Brittany’s by the table now, setting the plates atop Quinn’s garish placemats. “She’s a kid,” Brittany says.

Santana laughs. “Do you not remember us at 15?”

Brittany leans into the table with her hip and her arms crossed loosely across her stomach. “No, I don’t.”

Quinn actually laughs this time. Santana grabs some cutlery and then the champagne. “I bought my ticket already and I feel like throwing up.”

“That’s my girl,” Santana says, voice dripping faux sweetness. She juts her chin to the take out bag and Quinn grabs it before following to the table. Brittany pulls out their chairs and Santana presses a kiss along her wife’s jaw before sitting down. “Hey, wh-“

“We are not talking about Lena,” Quinn says quickly, the food dropping in the center of the table with a pointed thud that Santana will not be paying any mind to.

“And why not? You two are getting along great!” She pulls back the bag, pulling out the boxes of take out before leveling Quinn with a look. “You are getting along aren’t you? Or did you just say that to get me off your back?”

Brittany hooks her ankle around Santana’s, a gentle warning. “Things  _ are  _ nice between us right now,” Quinn reiterates. “Which is exactly why I don’t want to see her during an already… strenuous visit.”

“Strenuous?” Brittany blinks between the two of them. “Are you seeing Rachel while you’re there?”

She loves her wife. 

Santana laughs, dropping the container of fried rice and causing it to spill. Quinn’s lips purse and her cheeks pink and when she manages to stutter out a  _ That’s not what I meant by strenuous, Brittany _ , Santana is laughing against Brittany’s mouth, her wife’s hand tangling in her hair. They must kiss longer than Santana thinks because Quinn huffs out, “At least have some food before you mount each other on my dining table.”

—

Lena’s hand grips the back of the couch, nails digging into the fabric. Her back arches and she wiggles a little in her spot, trying to ignore the twinge of pain. Kara’s tongue dips lower, teases its way inside Lena next to her two fingers, and Lena’s other hand scrambles to fist in Kara’s hair. “Oh god, stay right there,” Lena moans. The pain in her back is overpowered by the way her cunt pulses around Kara, her clit twitching from the sensation and lack of attention. She’s tempted to abandon her grip on Kara in favor of rubbing herself but Lena already knows she won’t be able to apply as much pressure as she’d like, her belly preventing her from playing with her clit the way she likes. 

Kara shuffles forward, thrust her tongue deeper as she pulls her fingers out, nose coming to nuzzle at her clit. The noise that escapes her is nearly inhuman and the small rumble of Kara’s laugh in her cunt has the same sound falling from her lips again. Kara keeps alternating the thrusts of her fingers and tongue, the faster she moves the more Lena drips. Kara’s free hand grips Lena’s thigh, fingers wet with her own slick, and Lena moans as Kara spreads her open wider, Lena’s other foot coming to dig into Kara’s shoulder. “Couldn’t wait to touch yourself, darling?” She wishes she could actually look into Kara’s eyes but the shake of her head Lena gets in return, the change of pace and pressure against her clit, more than makes up for it. 

Lena feels a little emptier for a moment, but then Kara’s tongue is replaced by a third finger, her thumb coming up to take the place of her nose. Kara emerges over her stomach, face smeared white and shiny. Her blue eyes are hooded but look at Lena so reverently that she clenches hard enough around Kara’s fingers that Kara’s lips stretch into a smirk before they leave open mouthed kisses on her stretched belly. 

She wants Kara closer, would trade these kisses along her new curve in a second to have Kara straddle her, to ride Lena’s fingers in time with Kara’s fingers fucking into her. She misses the closeness they used to have and she has half a mind to push herself up, to slot herself in front of her wife the best she can just so she can touch her too. Lena whines, murmurs that she needs to feel Kara too. 

Kara hesitates but Lena grabs at Kara’s wrist on her leg, pulls a little at the blonde hair laced between her fingers. “Darling,  _ please _ .” Kara relents with one final nip to Lena’s stomach, climbing to her feet and straddling the leg Lena’s dropped from her shoulder. The fingers inside her curl deliciously when Kara’s pussy glides along her thigh and the hand that had been tangled in Kara’s hair goes out to grip her hip. A breathless sort of sigh comes from Kara and she settles down firmly on Lena’s leg, the next rock of her hips in time with the thrust of her fingers. “Yes, that’s it,” Lena groans. Kara’s closer than she thinks either of them expected, Kara so slick against her thigh that Lena’s wondering, somewhere in the haze of her own impending orgasm, if Kara’s even getting enough friction. 

“Will you let me taste you later,” she asks and Kara’s hips move faster, nods desperately above her. So rarely does Kara agree to let Lena take care of her when she feels like she doesn’t deserve it…

Kara uses her own leg to fuck Lena harder, fingers curling against that sweet spot inside of Lena. It distracts her, blanks her mind until the only thing she can focus on is her body and Kara’s. She urges Kara closer, wants her lips on her own. Always knowing what she needs, Kara curves herself to fit Lena’s body, fucks into Lena a little shallower than before but just as hard, Kara’s palm hitting Lena’s clit just right. Kara meets Lena’s mouth frantically and Lena wraps her arms around her wife’s neck, keeping her as close as she can. It’s a mess of tongue and teeth and firm fingers slipping in and out of her at a relentless pace, Kara’s own cunt making such a mess on her thigh that Lena can feel it dripping off her. 

Kara pulls back with a groan, her breath coming in pants just like Lena’s. The crinkle between her eyebrows is growing and Lena knows she’s just as close. Lena brings Kara’s forehead down to her own, scratches at the back of Kara’s neck until Kara is fucking herself on Lena’s thigh so fast she’s worried it might give out. “Come on, darling,” Lena whispers, voice hoarse and thick. Kara whines, mouth opening and closing like she wants to say something else but can’t quite manage. One hand trails down to Kara’s breast, Lena’s fingertips wrapping around the hard nipple. She tugs at it until Kara adds a fourth finger and on Lena’s own moan, she twists, rolling the hard bud until Kara’s hips lose rhythm and there’s a flood on her thigh. 

She nearly collapses on top of Lena but at the last moment she rolls to the side, finding the strength even in her post orgasm haze and twitches to take Lena with her. Lena almost yells in surprise but then she’s sinking onto Kara’s fingers, and  _ oh _ , she’s never felt this full before. It blindsides her completely, the way her cunt pulsates on its own around Kara’s knuckles, and she gasps, fingers digging into Kara’s stomach as she rides it out.

Kara rolls them again, gently, easing her fingers out of Lena as she eases Lena down on to the couch. She laughs, or tries to, once she’s on her back, when she notices that both of their legs are still twitching a little. “Well, I didn’t expect all this when you suggested we come home,” Lena rasps out. Kara brings her legs over her own and Lena jumps at the cool wetness around her knee. 

“What did you expect,” Kara asks, lifting her shoulders off the couch. Lena watches as Kara gathers up her hair, twists it into a careless bun that she doesn’t bother to secure, choosing instead to let her head fall back to the couch and sandwiching her hair up. There’s still a number of flyaways, the grown out strands from when Kara had bangs not long enough to be pushed back, and Kara’s nose twitches when the hair tickles her neck. “You haven’t stared at me this dopily after sex since you first got pregnant,” Kara says cheekily and this time, Lena does manage a laugh.

“You’re just so beautiful.” Kara rolls her eyes but her smile stretches wider. “Besides, I’m not sure you’ve ever gone that deep before, so excuse me for basking in it.” Kara blushes, laughing a little too.

Kara looks at the box on the coffee table, head shaking as her laughter dies down. “You really did keep it all.” Kara sits up, hair cascading down her back. She makes sure to keep Lena’s legs on her lap as she bends forward to grab the napkin that’s poking out of the top. “Even this! I didn’t even try on this!”

Lena puts her hands out, waves them until Kara takes them both in one of hers and pulls Lena until she can sit up. “That’s the first time you ever drew Krypton for me.” Lena smoothes out the corner and smiles down at the pen sketch. She remembers sitting on the floor of Kara’s apartment, full of wine and leftovers from Thanksgiving. Kara had been talking so animatedly about her home, about the sleek buildings that shone so brightly in Rao’s light, that seemed to stretch tall enough to greet him. Lena  _ needed _ to see it, to see what brought that smile to Kara’s face. She asked, so ready to be shot down, if Kara could show her somehow, and Kara had grabbed the closest napkin and pen, stories still flowing from her mouth about Argo City as the ink lines grew.

Lena hums and Kara looks at her. “We weren’t even dating when I drew this.”

“I know,” Lena says softly. “I think I was crazy about you.”

Kara laughs and drops her head onto Lena’s shoulder, kissing her neck. “Thank you again, baby.”

Lena nuzzles in closer. “I love you.” Kara murmurs the words back and Lena lets her hand scratch at Kara’s scalp. “So, not to ruin the mood,” Lena says gently. “I have to go to Metropolis to close a deal since Walter’s wife passed.”

“Why would that ruin the mood?” Kara kisses her neck again. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“You know, one day, you may actually get fired for not going to work,” Lena teases and Kara sits up, laughing. “It’s just for three days. I’ll be fine alone.”

“If you’re sure.” Kara slips Lena’s legs off her lap before standing, a slight grimace crossing her features when her thighs pull apart uncomfortably. “Now come on, I’ve got cum in my hair and you’re covered in it,” Kara says cheekily. 

She holds her hands out and Lena holds on tight, the baby swimming at how fast Lena gets to her feet. “You’re positive?” Kara nods, wrapping her arm around Lena’s waist as they walk toward the hall. “Because I can try and-“

“We are fine,” Kara says as she rolls her eyes. “I will survive a few nights without you and I promise I will not spend them having breakdowns.”

Lena looks up at her wife, eyebrow arching. “I think I’m going to need FaceTime dates as proof.”

“Have I ever st-“ Kara cuts herself off and Lena laughs, ducking herself into Kara’s neck. She nips at the skin in front of her and Kara shivers a little. “I don’t stand you up unless it’s  _ really  _ important.”

Lena laughs and brings them to a stop in the hallway, turning to stand in front of Kara, taking her hands in her own. “You didn’t stand me up on our wedding day and so long as you don’t stand me up when I deliver this guy,” she says with a firm pat to her stomach, the baby kicking in response or agreement, Lena isn’t sure, “Then you can stand me up all other days of our marriage.”

“Deal.” Kara punctuates the statement with a kiss. Lena walks them backward to their room until she crosses the threshold, then turns so they can get to the en suite. They move around the bathroom seamlessly, Kara fixing the water in the shower and Lena grabbing fresh towels from the cabinet. Looking in the mirror and finding her make up already smudged around her eyes, Lena grabs her make up remover, deciding its best to get most of the gunk off now so she can actually come out of the shower fresh faced. Kara watches her, lips pulled to one side and nearly pursed. “Think you’ll want to try and meet Quinn,” she asks, tone gentle but firm.

Lena takes a deep breath. “She said she wasn’t ready for that yet.” She closed her eyes, wipes away at her make up. She can sense Kara closing in, unsurprised to find her wife behind her when she opens her eyes. Kara almost frowns, lips thinning into what Lena’s sure Kara hopes conveys neutrality. Lena smiles softly. “It’s okay.”

“But you’re so wonderful,” Kara says. “I don’t understand how people don’t want to meet you.”

Kara takes her hand and Lena rolls her eyes as they walk to the shower. “I think you’re biased.”

Kara holds open the glass door with a shrug to one shoulder. “Still doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” 

\--

She is going to try to not to take a Xanax. She can get through this flight with a few drinks, a book, some music. She’ll even try that mindful breathing crap that doesn’t really help, even when she’s having an attack.

Quinn sits next to the window, rest of the row empty, and it should help her relax even more but the plane is still boarding and Quinn knows she’s not that lucky. She looks down at her watch, looks back at where people are packing into the plane. She can’t see the door from her spot, too many people filling the aisle, shoving luggage into the overhead bins, climbing over others to get to their seats. It makes her heart race even faster and she runs her palms on her jeans to try and get rid of the sweat. 

She looks out at the wing and laughs to herself. Never thought she’d see the day where her claustrophobia was something she’d welcome but it is preferable to wanting to run off this plane because she’s a scared idiot. 

Her phone lights up in her lap, a text from Santana and Brittany on the screen. Brittany’s text is normal, well wishes for a safe flight and to text when she lands. Santana tells her to not be a dick. 

Quinn rolls her eyes and is about to turn off her phone when another text comes in front Brittany.

_ take video of the recital for us!!! and say yes when she asks okay? _

Her eyebrows bunch together, confused, and then a text from a number she doesn’t have saved comes through. 

_ Brittany let me know you’re coming to town again. Coffee date? :)  _

Before she can ask who it is, there’s another text.

_ This is Rachel, by the way! _

Her anxiety over the flight and Beth is suddenly overpowered by an urge to find Brittany and punch her.

\--

The line for Noonan’s is  _ impossibly  _ long, so much so that Kara has half a mind to leave and swoop back in as Supergirl just to jump to the front.

Kara blows some hair out of her face, digs her heel into the floor gently. She’s never intentionally used her alter ego to get any perks but she looks longingly at the display case and feels her stomach clench in hunger. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her pants and barely holds back a whine before she looks back at the door.

And there, standing behind her, is Lena’s sister.

Kara straightens abruptly and swivels on her feet to look back at the counter. She tunes out the bustling noise of the cafe, finds herself focusing in on Quinn. She’s silent, her heartbeat steady. The only thing Kara can pick up is the tap of Quinn’s fingers on her phone, the soft inhale and exhale through her nose.

So she hadn’t noticed Kara. That was good. Right?

Kara lets her bag fall open and she reaches around for her cellphone. It takes her a second to find it, a shuffle forward, and what she’s hoping is a subtle glance back at Quinn, before it’s in her hand. It’s a little past two which means that Lena  _ should _ be taking a dinner break soon. Quinn sighs behind her and she knows she shouldn’t, but Kara looks back at Quinn  _ again _ . Kara’s hand comes up to readjust her glasses, scans the entire area behind her so it looks like maybe she’s just waiting for someone instead of creeping on her sister in law.

She looks  _ so _ very much like Lena. She’d seen the resemblance before, of course, when comparing pictures to her wife. But seeing Quinn in the flesh? It hits Kara over the head how similar they are. Their eyes, their jaws, the way they hold themselves...

Kara really should just introduce herself. It’s not as if Lena and Quinn are volatile towards one another. Though a little stilted (and that’s coming from someone who had to learn how to act human), the two are friendly with each other. Kara isn’t sure she’s seen Lena open up to anyone else as fast she has with Quinn, except maybe herself.  But is it awkward if she meets Quinn in person before Lena? Does Quinn even want to know her? Quinn didn’t even want to meet Lena yet… But maybe Kara is less intimidating?

Kara turns her attention back to the phone in her hand. Quickly, she types out a message to Lena. 

_ Definitely in front of your sister at Noonan’s _

She looks forward again, frowns at the sight of an empty pastry display just as her phone vibrates and Quinn’s rings. Kara reads her text and tries to block out Quinn’s own conversation.

_ What do you mean you’re in front of Quinn? _

Three little dots pop up before Lena’s next message comes in.

_ Are you in Metropolis? Is there a Noonan’s here I’m unaware of? _

Kara chews on her bottom lip before tapping the phone icon. Lena picks up instantly. “Have you flown over,” Lena asks. 

It sounds like wind is whipping up on Lena’s end and so before Kara answers she asks her own question. “Are you out getting dinner?”

“I was going to but if you’re here,” Lena says and Kara can hear how tired her wife is. She knows that Lena isn’t far enough along to stop working but she really needs to slow down. It probably doesn’t help that Kara’s been emotional herself and she knows Lena is internalizing it.

“I’m still home,” Kara says. It’s so hard to block Quinn’s conversation out. She sounds agitated, maybe a little sad too. “Please go get some dinner.”

“Remind me next time to bring Jess with me,” Lena sighs. 

“Well, I hope there won’t be a next time, babe. You won’t be able to fly soon.”

“I’m not even 30 weeks yet, Kara.”

“You only have seven more weeks left to fly,” Kara says. “And your maternity leave starts in six.”

Lena hums. “Yes, but there may be another emergency that has me flying all the way out here in that amount of time.” Another breath. “I’m just lonely. Metropolis isn’t home anymore.”

Kara frowns, chest aching. “Do you want me to meet you? I can pop over with Noonan’s.” Kara looks back at the pastry case that’s only just being refilled. “Hopefully I can order before they run out again.”

“No, it’s alright, love. I’ll be home tomorrow, anyway.” Lena clears her throat. “But okay, let's go back to the beginning. You’re with Quinn?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m  _ with _ her. She’s just… here.” Kara doesn’t turn around to verify that Quinn’s still behind her, can still hear Quinn’s soft conversation. It seems much more serious now and Kara has to focus on Lena’s heartbeat through the phone so that she doesn’t keep eavesdropping. “Why is she here?”

“I don’t know. I assumed that when she said she didn’t want to meet it was because she wasn’t ready, not because she wouldn’t even be in town,” Lena explains. A small moan flitters in from the speaker. “I can’t wait to get these shoes off.”

“You know there’s no shame in switching to flats, right?”

Lena laughs. “Tell that to the big wigs I encounter.”

Kara can’t help herself. She looks behind her again, fiddles with her glasses and tries not to stare directly at Quinn. “Should I say hello?” Quinn picks her gaze up from the floor and looks directly at Kara. Kara is ashamed to admit that she flushes and turns around immediately. 

“I can’t tell you what to do, darling, but I’m not sure that she’d react well to it if she didn’t even want to meet me.” It goes quieter on Lena’s end and Kara imagines she’s climbed into the back of her town car. Another, louder, moan comes through and Kara can’t help but smile, knowing that Lena’s just kicked off her heels. “How does- Is sh-“ Lena swallows thickly. “It’s really creepy if I ask you to take a picture isn’t it?”

Kara laughs, louder than she intends, and it causes a few people to turn and look at her. It gets the attention of the barista running the register too, Molly, and despite the sea of people still separating them, she holds her hand up for Kara to see, two fingers raised. “I’m not sure I don’t look like a creep already,” Kara says, nodding wildly at Molly and giving her a thumbs up. “It feels weird to  _ not _ say something.”

“Like I said, it’s up to you,” Lena muses. “Does she look like her picture?”

“A few things are different, but mostly,” Kara answers. She spots Molly pulling two sticky buns from the case and slipping them under the counter. Kara relaxes knowing that, no matter what, she’ll get her sticky buns. She hopes she has enough cash on her to leave Molly a huge tip. “Are you going back to the office after dinner?”

“You already know that I am,” Lena answers fondly. “But I promise to get back to the hotel by 9.” Kara can hear Lena shuffling once more and then a car door. She feels her eyebrows furrow before Lena huffs and says, “yes, I did take the car to go three blocks, no need to comment further.”

“I am not saying anything,” Kara says, unable to keep the lit out of her voice. “Call me when you can, please?” She can hear the smile in Lena’s voice when she tells her that of course she will. “I love you.”

Kara hangs up after Lena returns the sentiment, smile firmly on her face now, despite the fact that she’s sure she is starving. 

Quinn abruptly hangs up the phone behind her and Kara can feel someone else getting close just as Quinn lets out a polite, “hi.”

Kara is not silly enough to think Quinn’s talking to her but she still stamps down the urge to turn so she can see just who has joined the line at Quinn’s side. An enthusiastic  _ hey _ follows and Kara perks up because that voice is actually familiar. “I’m surprised you agreed to meet,” it continues. “Happy, but surprised.” The sentence ends with a weird almost laugh and, Rao, where has she heard that voice before? 

She resolves to not turn to look at Quinn again because she doesn’t want to continue to be a creep but it’s irritating that she can’t place the new voice behind her. Is it from the radio? Or maybe a TED Talk? Kara pulls her phone back out again, ignoring the reminder that it’s her turn to play a word against Winn in their scrabble game, and opens up the camera. She flips it so she can see herself and pretends to be checking her make up. Whoever is with Quinn is turned towards her and Kara just barely covers up her disappointed sigh with a short cough when Quinn looks at Kara through the phone.

Rao help her when she’s finally properly introduced to Quinn.

Kara runs her tongue over her teeth, trying to get rid of imaginary lipstick on them so Quinn doesn’t think she’s eavesdropping. She smiles at herself and then nods, happy to see that Quinn has already looked away from her.

“Why are you here anyway,” the other woman asks. Kara feels Quinn shift uncomfortably as they all shuffle forward in line. She’s so distracted that she barely notices that she’s at the counter now, Molly sliding the box of sticky buns in front of her. 

“Anything else I can get you, Kara?”

Kara smiles, pointedly tries to ignore the way Quinn cuts herself off behind her. “James’ usual and a raspberry tea for me, please,” she says brightly as she pulls out her wallet. “And  _ thank you _ for putting these to the side. I owe you.” There’s a twenty shoved behind a bunch of business cards in her wallet and Kara slides it to Molly before telling her she’ll use her card for the actual order. 

The barista blushes, thanks her about a half dozen times before turning to get the drinks. The conversation between the pair behind her has picked back up but Kara just pushes her glasses higher on her nose, determined to leave them be, just like Lena said. 

However…

“Hey, can you also charge twenty extra? So it can cover the two behind me,” she asks, voice low, and Molly looks around Kara to get a good look.

Kara watches Molly smile. “Oh, are you a Rachel Berry fan too?”

Kara’s eyes go wide.  _ That’s _ where she knew that voice from! Kara nods rapidly. “Lena and I have never missed an episode of  _ Regional Transport _ .” She puts the drinks in the carrier Molly slides in front of her, hands unsteady. How the hell did Quinn know Rachel Berry? Kara quickly signs the receipt and slides it back to Molly. “You’ll let me know if $20 isn’t enough, won’t you?”

Molly nods and then Kara scoops up her goodies, purposefully not looking at the girls when she passes them. She commandeers a small corner of the counter by all the sweeteners and takes the lid off her steaming tea. She lets it cool while she finds her phone again, this time doing a quick google search of Rachel Berry.

Kara scans the results and rolls her eyes at herself when she opens the star’s Wikipedia page. 

_ Born: Lima, Ohio _

How did they  _ miss  _ this?!

She’s in the process of sending that very statement to Lena when there’s a tap on her shoulder and Kara jumps, phone  _ almost _ cracking under her touch. She turns, hand and phone to her chest, finds the duo standing there. “Oh, uh,” Kara laughs uncomfortably, finding with her glasses just so she doesn’t squeeze her phone even tighter. “Hello.”

“Hi, I just wanted to say thank you so much for buying our treats,” Rachel says with a wide, toothy smile. “That was very kind of you!”

Quinn…  _ inspects  _ from her spot behind Rachel, eyes looking Kara up and down like she’s trying to pick her apart. Kara swallows hard and looks down at her feet with a shaky breath that turns into a laugh as she looks back up at Rachel. “You are so welcome,” Kara stutters out. “My wife and I never miss an episode of your show.” She can see Quinn posture behind Rachel, eyebrow raising in a way that reminds Kara too much of Lena. Kara’s sure her smile is bordering on crazy looking but she’s two seconds from literally super speeding out of this awkward encounter. 

Why couldn’t she have run into Rachel Berry on any other Noonan’s run? Why has she never run into her here before anyway?

“Have you been here before? They have got the best pastries in National City. Actually, I would say best on this coast. I hope you were able to order some. They are  _ so _ busy today. Usually a crowd like this doesn’t come through until Sunday morning,” Kara rambles, tossing her phone into her purse. Her elbow knocks her cup and  _ oh _ her tea, that’s a good thing to occupy her hands with. She grabs three sugars and rips them open as she clears her throat. “But if you come here often you probably know that already. Oh, if you don’t though, now you know to avoid Sundays! And I, I am definitely rambling, I am so sorry.” Kara laughs again and she knows it sounds odd even to her own ears. She stirs in her sugars and then she hears Rachel laugh kindly. 

“It’s okay, really,” Rachel says, hand on Kara’s shoulder. “I just recently discovered this place and it really is wonderful. Thanks for the weekend tip!” Kara lets out a sigh of relief and nods. Rao, let this be the end of this. “Is your wife here with you? Would you guys like a photo?”

Quinn’s eyes go wide behind Rachel and Kara’s sure her own expression matches. “Oh, no, she’s at work and I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose. I just wanted to do something nice! Your show really is just, a riot.”

“This is the first time anyone has been so kind. Please, a photo is the least I could do. You could send it to your wife!” Rachel’s attempting to move her now and Kara has to get past this ridiculous turn her day has taken quick. She lets herself be moved by Rachel, listens to the star ask for her phone. Quinn takes a step back and Rachel is telling Quinn to take the picture for them and then, Kara really doesn’t understand how or why the next sentence comes out of her mouth.

“Oh, no, you shouldn’t feel excluded, we should all be in the picture!”

Rachel almost claps. Kara can see her actually stamp down the action. “You really are so nice,” Rachel says, grabbing Quinn who is definitely kind of glaring at the both of them. 

Rachel is sandwiched between them and even though Kara is the one taking the picture, Rachel counts down. 

Rachel looks nice but Kara looks crazed, eyes too wide and smile too forced and Quinn looks… well if Kara is being honest, Quinn looks constipated. 

With another squeeze of Kara’s shoulder, Rachel leads Quinn away to a table out on the patio and Kara finally feels like she can breathe.

She sends the picture to Lena and it’s not until it’s already in the process of delivering that Kara notices Quinn’s hand in the picture. It’s at her side, raised and open in a secret sort of wave.

Her phone is ringing before she can really process that.

“ _ Why _ did you take a picture with Quinn and  _ what the fuck _ is  _ Rachel Berry _ doing there,” Lena shrieks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr @idontneedtobeforgiven


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry for the delay in updating. The wifey was visiting, I've been sick off and on, and then I was stuck as to where to take some things in this chapter. Enjoy!

Quinn thinks she may combust.

Rachel’s hand is on her lower back, guiding her towards the patio and, oh, it’s been so long since Rachel’s touch has made her skin crawl. She refuses to pull away from the touch, to flinch, but the pressure, light but sure, is enough to get her stomach churning even more. 

Rachel is talking, saying something, about the fan maybe? Quinn doesn’t hear it. This place is so  _ loud _ and Rachel is touching her and that woman-

Quinn looks over her shoulder, can’t stop herself from finding the woman she’s almost certain is her sister in law. She’s turned back to the bar again, phone between her cheek and shoulder, hands quickly moving over her drinks. There’s a nervous quality to her, not that the woman was a model of calm before, a little harried despite her business wear. 

Rachel finally stops touching her, and Quinn’s attention snaps back. 

Rachel’s already slumping comfortably into a chair and pulling her sunglasses off her head to slip them on to her face, and Quinn takes a deep breath, lowering into the chair across the table.

She spares a final glance in the direction of the bar and Kara, or the woman she thinks is Kara, is gone.

“Quinn?”

There’s a tick in the base of her spine when she turns her attention to Rachel. It happens, every now and then, when she moves too fast, tries to elongate herself more than she should, when the cold seeps into her bones. She doesn’t let the pain show, schools her face into something neutral before giving Rachel a small smile. “Sorry,” Quinn says and her smile turns even more polite as a waitress brings their drinks and food. They both stay silent until the waitress rushes away from the table. Quinn moves her cup on its coaster closer to her, fingers toying with the curved handle, a nervous tick she can’t help herself to hide. “Sorry,” she repeats. “I’m a little…” Quinn shakes her head, looking out at the busy city street that stretches out next to their table. “This isn’t an easy trip for me.”

When Quinn looks back to Rachel, she finds her features laced with sympathy. Quinn hates it. She has to force herself not to roll her eyes and only manages to do so by pouring her cup full of hot water. “Shelby mentioned you were coming when she invited me,” Rachel says. 

Quinn wraps the string of her teabag around her finger. “You’re going to the recital?” At Rachel’s slow nod, Quinn lets her teabag sit in the still steaming water. She dips it a few times before letting it rest, sunk to the bottom of her cup. “Do you go to a lot of her shows,” Quinn ventures. She’s unprepared for the way Rachel dims at the question.

“Not anymore, no.” Rachel pushes a smile at her cheeks, picks up her fork and stabs at her salad almost timidly. “She doesn’t have many now, anyway.” Rachel takes a bite and focuses on her salad as she chews.

Quinn picks up her own cutlery, stirs her soup with her spoon. She’s not sure she wants to know the answer but she asks before she can stamp down the urge. “You used to go to them?”

Where Quinn pushes through her discomforts, Rachel lets it stutter her movements, her feelings so near the surface that she can’t mask them. Quinn guesses that’s what makes Rachel a good actress, this ability to let emotions color her so easily.

The crouton Rachel was attempting to spear cracks and crumbles. She puts down her fork after that and laces her hands together on the table. “I don’t want to upset you,” is not what Rachel should have said if she wanted to avoid Quinn getting upset.

Her shoulders pitch up discreetly beneath her sweater, tongue catching between her teeth until Quinn forces a kind smile. “I don’t think we’re close enough for you to upset me,” she says, more steel in her voice than is probably fair. She doesn’t think she means it to be rude or curt because it’s just a simple truth. They’ve only seen eachother a handful of times over the years and just because they’ve had sex now doesn’t change anything. They don’t know each other, Quinn repeats in her head. It doesn’t matter what Rachel says next because it  _ can’t  _ affect her.

The lenses of Rachel’s sunglasses are light enough that she can still make out her eyes. Rachel’s looking at her like she knows something Quinn doesn’t, eyes regarding Quinn carefully, and she can feel her skin start crawling, her stomach starting to churn. Her tea is still too hot, the bag still steeping, but she picks up the cup and takes a burning drink just to avoid looking at Rachel any longer. The silence between them feels like it stretches forever but with a blink of Rachel’s eyes, her face blanks, hand plucking up her fork and she starts back in on her salad. “You’re right,” Rachel says. Quinn expects an edge to Rachel’s voice but there is none. She’s not sure if that’s preferable or not. Rachel takes a bite and once it’s swallowed she says, casually, “I went to all of Beth’s recitals until she was ten.”

She thinks of all the emails she received over the years, the ones she used to look at longingly, the ones she moved into the folder marker ‘B’ without opening them, the ones she would look at once and then delete. Never once was Rachel mentioned or in any pictures that she read. Never once did Quinn even  _ consider _ that Rachel might have some sort of relationship with her dau-

The cup in her hand clatters as she returns it to the saucer and, yes, there’s the reaction she expects. Rachel doesn’t react to her fumble, continues to eat her salad pointedly and looking at Quinn with an almost bored gaze. 

Quinn sucks in a deep breath. Beth isn’t her daughter, she never has been. 

(It’s been far too long since she’s ever considered Beth as such.)

Quinn pushes her hair back from where it’s fallen over her shoulder. “Why’d you stop going,” Quinn manages to ask, her voice even and her hand sure as she picks up the spoon sitting in her soup. 

Rachel’s bravado slips. Quinn can see it in the way her eyebrow quirks for a second, the way her hand grips at her fork tighter. Rachel doesn’t let anything else fall, a testament to the actress she’s grown in to. “I’m sure you’ll see why tonight,” is the cryptic response Quinn gets.

Looking down at her soup, Quinn wishes this lunch was already over.

\--

She has enough meetings and other pressing things to take care of that Lena can successfully block out the fact that Kara met Rachel Berry and  _ Quinn _ today. No, not just met. Took the most awkward photo Lena has ever seen with them.

It’s not until she’s slipping into the back of her town car on the way back to her hotel that her mind starts racing, narrowing in on the thought that Quinn must think she’s mad.

Cell phone in her palm, she opens up a new email, one separate from the chain she and Quinn have been conversing through. Her thumb hovers over the screen. What is she even supposed to say? What  _ can _ she say? She thinks, for a brief moment, of making some sort of joke. It’s the kind of thing Kara would do and though Lena does find it charming, she doubts that Quinn will be enamoured by it if her look in the picture is anything to go on. The baby keeps squirming around, gives a solid kick to what must be Lena’s kidney. With a huff, Lena takes her eyes off the bright screen and puts them on her belly. “Enough of that, please. It’s been a long day.”

There’s a quiet, but warm, chuckle from her driver and she send an exasperated smile his way when their eyes meet in the rear view mirror.

For once, her son seems to listen. His movements slow and, with one more push against her kidney, he stills. She looks back at her phone now that her little one is settled but finds herself no more inspired than she was moments ago. The drive to the hotel she’s staying at isn’t long and she only starts and erases a draft of the email three times before they’re pulling up to the curb, her door opening before her driver even starts to get out. A hand appears to help her out but she pays no attention to it, reaching to grab her purse and her laptop bag, along with the bag she has containing the documents she needs hard copies of back in her home office. Except she gets the most heavenly whiff and she lets all of her bags fall back to the floor of the car. As hurried as she can, she scoots to the edge of the seat and peers up at- “Darling,” Lena says brightly, her lips stretching into a smile.

“Hi,” Kara says and she finally rounds the door so Lena can get her hands on her. Lena thinks she hears another laugh from her driver before the partition shade is being rolled up but she really can’t focus on that at all when Kara is in front of her for the first time in days. Her hands fall to Kara’s arms the moment her wife squats down, squeezing tight at her biceps as she pulls Kara closer for a kiss.

“You didn’t have to come over,” Lena says in between kisses and she feels Kara shrug just as the baby starts moving again. “I’m heading home in the morning anyway.”

“Or,” Kara starts, pulling back just enough so that she can press a kiss to Lena’s swollen stomach, “we can go home tonight.” A final kiss to Lena’s lips and then Kara is reaching around her, picking up Lena’s work with ease. “Though I think I would prefer we spend a wonderful night at a hotel and head home tomorrow together.”

Lena lets Kara help her up next and once she’s on her feet, she walks over to the passenger side window to give her driver a wave. He tips his hat and, upon Kara closing the door, drives away. Leaning into Kara and twining their hands together, Lena lets out a content sigh, her worry ebbing just enough for her to enjoy the surprise visit. She rubs her finger against the cool metal of Kara’s wedding ring, turns her head into Kara’s shoulder just to she can breathe Kara in a little deeper. It just serves to make their son more active and it pulls a small, shy smile out of her.

Their boy already loves Kara so much.

Kara leads them to the elevators and Lena presses the up arrow. “Are we going to have to see Clark before we head back,” she asks as innocently as she can.

It makes a laugh rumble in Kara’s chest. “No, I won’t put you through a brunch with Kal if it’s not on your terf.”

“God, you are the best,” Lena moans which just makes Kara laugh harder.

“Besides, I think I already filled our weird family interaction quota until you have the baby,” Kara adds and Lena can do nothing but agree as they step onto the elevator.

\--

Before leaving her hotel, Quinn throws up twice. 

The first time was in the shower, her nausea that’d taken root in the pit of her stomach since lunch finally too much for her body to bear. The second time, Quinn was already done up, was making her way down towards her cab when she realized she was already shaking and it was too late for a Xanax. As a result of running back to the toilet to cough up a mixture of bile and water then having to fix her make up and hair, Quinn is later than she intended to be to the recital.

She had hoped to sneak in just as the lights went down, not wanting to put up with stilted small talk or the insistence that she sit with Shelby, but by the time Quinn makes her way in to the auditorium, there’s a child already performing a piece on a double bass. 

The sight is rather comical. The boy on stage doesn’t look much older than ten, though she’s not good with ages to begin with, and he has to use a stool to reach the proper places on the bass. She’s not sure what he’s playing but it sounds nice to her, no audible mistakes as far as she can tell. 

Quinn opens the program in her hand, squints down at the words. It’s hard to make out in the darkness of the auditorium but she manages to spot Beth’s name on the third page. The information is useless at the moment since she has no idea who the kid is on stage, but she’s nearly an hour late. Quinn hopes that means she won’t have to sit through too much.

It takes another half hour before Beth’s up and, oh, how long had it been since she’s seen her? Shelby used to send school photos but Quinn had requested she stop sometime in middle school. It felt inappropriate to have them, to watch Beth grow when she made the decision to give Beth up as a baby. Quinn forgot, up until now, that it’s been years since she saw the girl walking across the stage. 

Beth’s hair, which for as long as Quinn had known was dark like Puck’s (and, as she knows now, her mother’s), is blonde, her curls not even reaching her shoulders. Beth’s taller than Quinn remembers, taller than she thinks she is, and she’s filled out in all the places one would expect from a teenager. It’s hard, from where Quinn sits, to make out too much but- Quinn sucks in a deep breath. 

It’s hard to make out anything from Puck. All Quinn can see is herself and, if she’s being honest, Lena.

Beth sits down at the piano, back straight and head held high as she sets the music in front of her. She’s picked a piece Quinn thinks she’s heard before -Symphony No. 5- and the audible clearing of Beth’s throat on stage has everyone relaxing in their seats. Everyone but Quinn, who leans forward, hands crumpling the program in her lap. 

The notes are not correct. There’s a murmur coursing over the auditorium like a wave, the people on either side of Quinn opening their programs to check to see that they’ve read it right. A smile, no, a smirk stretches Beth’s lips and she launches into her performance, fingers flying over the keys with an enthusiasm Quinn didn’t expect from a girl who told her she didn’t like performing.

The song-song _ s _ , she realizes after a change in melody- don’t leap out at her, though parts of what Beth plays sound somewhat familiar. Quinn couldn’t name any of the songs if someone dared her. It doesn’t matter though because Beth’s playing is absolutely brilliant and Quinn is stupidly mesmerized by it. Beth puts her whole body into her performance but not in the garish way that certain performers do. It’s not over the top in the way that Quinn recalls Lady Gaga doing before she was tamed. She doesn’t sacrifice her posture, keeps it perfect as the music flows out of her, foot that’s not on the pedal tapping along against the leg of the stool Beth sits on. 

Quinn realizes, belatedly, that Beth has completely ignored the sheet music she put up. Is Beth making this up as she goes? Or was this something she practiced, slaved over, until she had it memorized?

The performance ends more abruptly than Quinn expected, with a loud crash of the keys, as Beth seems to decide that she’s done playing. The audience isn’t quite sure what to do, applause starting sporadically and soft before growing to something adequate and polite. Beth pays no attention to it. She takes her sheet music, stands, gives the audience a mock salute and heads off the stage.

The emcee returns to the podium at the side, nervously touches the lapels of her suit jacket. “Th-thank you, Beth,” the woman starts, voice nervous and laughter coloring the edges of her words, “for that impromptu performance of, erm, songs.”

Quinn laughs, too loud, and when she gets a glare from the couple next to her, she waves them off, relaxing in her seat.

—

Kara’s thumb digs in to Lena’s foot, works from the arch to her toes with a magnificent grace that Lena realizes now she’s missed desperately. Kara laughs at the moan that Lena lets loose but Lena doesn’t care. “Your hands are heaven sent,” she murmurs, turning her head to look up to where Kara leans against the headboard. 

“Well, I did come from the stars,” Kara quips as her thumb makes it way back down to her heel. It’s not where her feet primarily ache but it still feels wonderful. “I know we talked about it on the phone but, can I just say again, how sorry I am for my inability to mind my own business?”

A laugh rumbles in Lena’s throat and she smiles down at Kara. “It’s going to make when you do properly meet incredibly awkward,” Lena says only for Kara to scoff.

“That is an understatement.” Some hair falls into Kara’s eyes and, rather than brush it away, she pushes her glasses so that they sit on top of her head, hair going with it. “Have you looked at that picture again?” Kara shakes her head, lets out a low breath that edges on a whistle. “I look like a rabid fan… or like I’m try to stop myself from having explosive diarrhea.”

Lena reaches for her phone. With the picture pulled up again, she finds the humor in it. Before she’d been too swept up in a variety of other emotions but now that hours have passed and Kara is here with her, she can look at the photo with news eyes. “Well, at least your expression compliments Quinn’s,” Lena hums as she zooms in on their faces. It does look like Kara is experiencing some sort of bathroom emergency whereas Quinn just looks… if Lena’s being honest Quinn looks to be a mixture of angry and constipated. Though, Lena supposes one would be angry about being constipated.

The baby kicks at her side and Lena lets her phone drop in order to run her hand over her moving son. It reminds her that constipation may not be too far off for herself, if all the baby books are to be believed.

Kara switches to Lena’s other foot, her nail pricking her skin just enough to get Lena’s attention back. “You two look so much alike,” she says softly. She glances at Lena for a moment, soft, sure smile on her face before she focuses back on Lena’s foot. “The resemblance was easy to see in pictures but in person? Rao…”

Lena swallows thickly, brings her cheek between her teeth, a nervous habit she developed… she can’t even remember a time she didn’t do it. She chews on the skin for a moment before catching herself. She stretches, full bodied, and Kara loosens her grip so that Lena can move however she pleases. “Do you think it will be strange for me? When we do eventually meet?”

Kara shrugs. “It’s possible. But you also don’t see yourself the way I see you. You could only see the way you two are different.” Lena begins to push herself up, languishing once she’s got her upper back off the mattress. Kara swoops in, like always, takes Lena’s forearms in her hands and pulls until Lena’s sitting up. Even with Lena seated now, Kara still tugs and Lena finds herself rolling her eyes fondly at the unnecessary movement. Lena keeps going forward until she meets Kara’s lips, kisses her wife and feels herself melt even further at the sensation, at the warmth Kara has always filled her with. 

—

The first thing she sees is the smile. The smile which stretches her mother’s cheeks and reveals all the lines that have grown deeper as the years have gone on. The smile which bares a little too much teeth, pulls a little too much to the left. She’s gotten that smile all too often lately. When Beth looks into her eyes, she knows that she’s going to get one hell of a lecture in the car.

Beth fights the urge to roll her eyes and instead smiles wider, one of genuine glee unlike her mom’s. 

Rachel steps in front of her mom and puts her hands on Beth’s shoulders. “That was ballsy,” Rachel murmurs as she pulls Beth in for a hug. “But you did  _ amazing _ .” Beth gives Rachel a tight squeeze.

“Thanks,” Beth says. She glances at her mom and the smile slips, eyebrows stitching together, a clear sign of the irritation boiling beneath the surface.

“Did you compose it yourself,” Rachel asks when she’s pulled back. 

Beth has barely begun to nod when her mom steps in closer, slides her arm around Beth’s shoulders. “If I had known you wanted to do a modern piece, I would have found a different group for you to perform with,” she says. “And I could have helped you. Or Rachel. You know, Rachel did medleys quite often when she was in school.”

Rachel shifts her weight from foot to foot as she shoves her hands into her pockets. Beth doesn’t restrain the sigh that builds up inside her. “I think I managed just fine with no one’s help.” Her mom looks like she has something more to say but Beth avoids looking at her in favor of scanning the crowd. 

Her hopes aren’t up. It’s been a solid seven years since she’s seen Quinn. There had been some promises of continued visits when it was possible but nothing had ever come of it. Outside of the cards she received every birthday and Christmas, Quinn had exactly no contact with her. The fact that she’s spoken to Quinn twice within the past six months is more than she could have ever expected. To have her actually show up? It seemed too good to be true.

Delilah, the little one she had befriended at rehearsals, waves from where she stands by her family. It was her very first public recital and she had been the best ball of energy. Forgetting her search and aching for some distance from her mom, Beth makes her way over to the small group. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Shelby start to protest but Beth pretends not to see, silently thanks Rachel for asking Shelby something. Delilah’s bouncing in her spot, the overly floofy dress she wears swishing around her knees and the curls that Beth twisted her hair into before the show started brushing into her eyes. “Beth,” she yells. She waves at Beth again, urging Beth to move faster before she gets tired of Beth’s pace. She breaks apart from her family and runs up to Beth, takes her hand excitedly. “My grandma wants to meet you! She thinks you’re nice since you helped me practice and made my hair pretty like yours.” 

With a laugh, Beth lets herself be pulled over to the group of strangers. She feels more at ease than when she first came from backstage and it makes that awful feeling settle in the pit of her stomach again, one she had been hoping to hedge until she was riding home with her mom. Her smile dips a little but she’s in front of Delilah’s family now and she puts her smile back in place. “This is my friend, Beth,” Delilah announces excitedly. 

“Hi,” Beth says and she listens to Delilah as she introduces everyone in her entourage. 

Delilah’s parents actually compliment her performance and her dad name drops one of the songs in her medley, much to Beth’s surprise. It warms her, is happy there was at least one appreciative person in the audience, and Delilah’s grandma takes Beth’s elbow in her hand. “Thank you for being so sweet to our little one,” she says, voice deeper than Beth expected from such a tiny woman.

At the same time that Delilah spins to face her Grandma with an angry frown, Beth says, “she’s not so little. Seven is pretty old.” Delilah nods, curls swishing into her face again and Beth reaches to push them back when Delilah seems set on letting them block her vision.

“Seven is not little, Grandma,” Delilah adds as if her frown earlier hadn’t been enough.

Delilah’s grandmother rolls her eyes, kind, in Beth’s direction and Beth smiles with her teeth hidden so that she won’t let out a few giggles. Before Delilah can get completely engrossed in talking about where they’re going for celebratory cake, Beth says her goodbyes and makes sure to give Delilah’s mom her email since she promised Delilah she would. 

Intent on making her way back to her mom and Rachel, Beth turns, and there in the crowd, with one hand shoved in her coat pocket, the other wrapped tight around the straps of her bag, is Quinn. She’s already staring right at Beth but she makes no move forward, no acknowledgement other than a weak smile and a casual tip of her head.

And she never once stops looking Beth in the eye.

With her mom and Rachel a distant thought, Beth marches up to Quinn. She’s surprised Quinn doesn’t look scared by the way Beth struts up to her. Anytime they speak, it sounds like Quinn is going to throw up at any moment. But this woman in front of her just rolls her shoulders back and stands tall, seems to pretend that she’s not holding on to her purse like it’s going to fly away. A small, less frightened, smile contorts Quinn’s face when Beth stops in front of her. 

She ignores all the similarities she can see in Quinn’s face, puts her hands on her hips. “You came.”

Quinn’s face remains impassive. “I told you that I would,” she says, voice even. A petty retort crawls up Beth’s throat but she swallows it down because it doesn’t matter. Quinn is here now. “That was brilliant. Your performance.” It doesn’t seem like Quinn is lying and Beth guesses that she has no reason to. It’s not like they’re much of anything to one another. 

“Thanks,” Beth says with a small dip of her head. “Mom’s not happy.”

A rough laugh comes from Quinn. “Given what I saw of the other performances, I can see why Shelby might be embarrassed.”

Beth shrugs and gives a glance back to where she left Rachel and her mom, only to see them making their way over. “Mom likes me to perform,” Beth says, low, once she turns back to Quinn. “She’ll have to take what she can get.”

Something like caring flashes over Quinn’s face but it’s gone as soon as it appears, Quinn’s eyes finally leaving her and landing over her shoulder. “Hi, Shelby,” Quinn says, polite, and Beth sees another look, this one she can’t quite place, skirt over Quinn’s features when she addresses Rachel. “Hey.”

“Are you in town long, Quinn,” her mom asks and Beth drowns out the ensuing pleasantries in favor of looking closer at Quinn. She’s shorter than Beth remembers but Beth also hasn’t seen Quinn in person since she hit puberty. There’s not a lot that’s different between them. Beth thinks their noses might be a tad different in shape. Beth knows from staring at it too long that her nose is a little wider, a little fuller at the hook. Beth knows her jaw isn’t as sharp as Quinn’s either but she thinks that has more to do with the lingering baby fat in her face. The similarities are jarring. Their eyes are the same, though Quinn has a few lines around the edges where Beth doesn’t yet. Beth’s a truer green too, at least with how Quinn’s eyes look now. From the pictures she’s seen of Quinn in high school and knowing how her own eyes work, they probably fluctuate a little in color. Still, Beth thinks her eyes are probably darker than the other woman standing in front of her. Their brows are the same, the cut of their cheekbones, the bow of their lips. 

Beth looks down at her own body and then at Quinn’s. It seems Quinn is responsible for her inability to find a decent pair of jeans but not for the handfuls she has up top. 

The auditorium is mostly empty now and it’s the lack of background noise that has Beth tuning back in to the conversation in front of her. When she notices the trio staring at her, Beth realizes she’s missed something and her cheeks warm. “What was that?"

Her mom sighs and her hip cocks to the side as she pushes her hair back. “Do you want to go out for some ice cream? Or do you want to head back home?”

The thought of sitting somewhere with her mom, Rachel, and Quinn sounds nauseating. It’s bad enough being with her mom and Rachel when her mom is in a good mood but throwing Quinn into the mix is sure to be a recipe for disaster. Beth shakes her head. “I’m tired,” she lies but everyone accepts her words at face value. “But maybe-“ She looks at Quinn who suddenly looks very scared, her jaw locking in what is probably an effort to keep some sort of control. “Lunch or something tomorrow?”

Rachel’s easy going smile shrinks and her mom is sighing again. “I’m going to go get the car,” she says. She pulls Rachel in for a hug, gives Quinn a nod and a trying smile, before putting her hand on Beth’s shoulder. “Five minutes.” It’s punctuated with a look that reminds Beth she’s in for a lecture that  _ will _ leave her tired.

With her mom out of earshot, Quinn clears her throat. “I’m actually leaving pretty early tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She feels like an idiot. Why did she think that Quinn would make time to actually interact with her? After all, Beth had only requested her presence at the recital. She nods, pushes her hair behind her ears. She wants nothing more than to look at the ground or at Rachel or at something that isn’t Quinn, but it feels important to keep looking at Quinn’s eyes. Why she wants to prove to this woman that she’s okay with this, Beth isn’t sure. She’s not sure of anything anymore.

Quinn’s eyes flick over to Beth’s ear, the one that houses a variety of piercings, and then she’s looking back into Beth’s eyes. From all the stories she’s heard of Quinn, Beth never imagined she could look so terrified. 

Rachel shifts nervously. Beth can see how badly she wants to say something, how much she wan-

“But if you don’t mind getting up early, we could get some breakfast,” Quinn says quietly, eyes falling to her feet for a moment. She clears her throat again, lifts her head, shaking out her hair in what Beth thinks is Quinn trying to regain some sort of face.

Rachel visibly relaxes next to them and if Beth didn’t feel like passing out, she’d laugh. “I’d really like that.” Rachel is beaming at them both which is distracting but it looks like it’s helping Quinn not throw up in the space between them. 

Her phone vibrates in her bra. She takes it out but doesn’t look at the notification. It’s her mom. “I have to go meet Mom but I’ll text you?” Quinn nods and before they can awkwardly dance around any sort of parting, Rachel swoops in and gives Beth another hug. 

“If your mom doesn’t want to drive you, I’ll drop by and be your driver tomorrow,” she says, already turning Beth towards the door. “Let’s go ask.”

She wants to look back at Quinn but Beth’s pretty sure Quinn needs to be alone right now.

—

She just wants to sleep.

She managed to get a few hours in, dozing as Kara read to her, but now their son is awake and pushing into her ribs and she wishes he would get on her schedule, just once.

Lena rolls over, slow and angry, to see Kara smiling down at her dopily which just makes Lena more upset. “Don’t smile at me. I should be sleeping.”

Kara sets her tablet on the bedside table before looking back down at Lena, smile stretching a little wider. “Well, joke’s on you, I smile at you like this when you’re asleep too.” Kara reaches behind her and pulls a pillow out to wedge under Lena’s stomach. “He was actually wiggling before you woke up.”

Groaning, Lena squeezes her eyes shut and brings one of her pillows to spoon. “I’m used to the movement enough now. It’s when he starts being  _ mean _ ,” she says, pointedly to her stomach, “and trying to go up to my ribs that I can’t sleep.”

Kara scoots down on the bed and rests her head on Lena’s pillow, their foreheads touching. Lena cracks an eye open, watches as Kara carefully dances her fingers along the curve of Lena’s stomach. “Don’t rile him up,” she warns. Kara rolls her eyes before kissing Lena.

“When my Aunt Lara was pregnant,” Kara starts, gaze focused on where her hand plays on Lena’s stomach. The soft words are enough to make Lena open both eyes, rear her head back so that she can take in all of Kara’s face. “I was so fascinated by her stomach. It had been so long since a Kryptonian had been pregnant and it was just so beautiful to me.” Kara taps her index finger at the top of Lena’s stomach, right where Lena thinks his butt is. “I’d seen the birthing matrix once, but the babies there were always so calm. Like they never moved.” Kara taps once more and then he’s twisting, his hand, or maybe his foot, pressing where Kara had prodded. “But Kal would flip and swim so much in utero. You could actually see his hands and feet through my aunt’s stomach.”

The scientist in her has more questions, like how Kara had managed to see the birthing chambers on her home planet. But she’s being swept up in the story of her wife’s home and so she stays quiet, watches Kara’s face with wondering eyes. “He would antagonize her as much as our little one antagonizes you.”

Lena lets out a low, sleepy laugh. “I’m glad you finally recognize it as antagonizing.”

Kara looks up at Lena and rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her. “I tamed him,” Kara whispers.

Lena feels her eyebrows bunch. “What?”

Kara’s fingers continue their path down the curve of Lena’s stomach and Lena’s breath catches when she realizes that the baby is turning with the motion, trying to seek out Kara’s touch. “I’m sure I annoyed my aunt at first, always wanting to touch and see her stomach but then Kal started playing with me. I could distract him once she was far enough along.”

“Are you telling me you could have been… snake charming our son this entire time,” Lena questions.

“Do you really think I’ve just been holding out on you,” Kara returns, her eyebrow arching. Her fingers swaying back and forth, back and forth, and Lena imagines, not for the first time, what Kara will look like, rocking their son in her arms. “Kryptonian gestation was different so I wasn’t sure it would work, but I think he’s finally at the right development to respond to my baby whispering.”

With a shake of her head and a fond smile, Lena puts her fingers under Kara’s chin. Not needing any more of a request, Kara stretches, closes the gap between them, her lips slotting against Lena’s. Earlier irritation completely gone, Lena sighs and feels herself settle just as their son does beneath her skin.

After a quiet moment, Kara lifts her head from where she let it rest on the pillow, props it up on her elbow. “Have you thought about names?”

It feels like almost too heavy a topic for how tired she is, but Lena has put this conversation off for so long that she knows she owes Kara the decency of letting the name talk start. “No,” she answers honestly. The thought of naming the baby had been anxiety inducing to say the least. Between the two of them, they know how important a name can be, how heavy they can be. The thought of saddling their son with something is daunting.

Perhaps they hadn’t thought out this whole parenting thing enough.

“Have you,” Lena asks. Kara rolls on to her back, taking the blanket with her, a soft hum vibrating in her throat.

“Obviously, I would like to incorporate my Kryptonian in there,” Kara says and Lena watches as Kara’s fingers twitch a little at the mention of her home. “I’ve been trying to reimagine something with Zor-El but nothing has worked out so far.” Kara tilts her head to the side so she can look at Lena. “A girl would’ve been easier. Then we could have just gone with Zoe."

Lena wrinkles her nose. “I’m not sure I’m sold on the idea of Zoe but we can clearly table that for a few years.” Kara lets out a laugh through her nose. “Did you want their first name to be Kryptonian?”

Before she even finished the sentence, Kara is shaking her head. “Middle name,” Kara says before asking, “Luthor or Danvers?”

A laugh barks out. “Danvers,” Lena says. “No question.”

Kara laughs then too. “Great, so we have Blank Kryptonian Danvers. Sounds perfect.” Lena slaps at Kara’s stomach which only makes Kara laugh harder. “Oh, should we follow the Luthor tradition?” There’s not too much humor in the question which leads Lena to think this is something Kara may actually be considering. “A first name that starts with an L?”

“Well, it’d be missing the alliteration,” Lena says through a yawn. “Maybe we should just pick a letter.”

“Forcibly narrow ourselves down,” Kara muses.

Lena nods and curls her arms around the pillow next to her, leg hooking one of Kara’s. “Exactly.”

Eyelids too heavy now that their son is asleep, Lena lets them close. Kara is still thinking beside her, thoughts loud but not so distracting that Lena can’t feel herself slip away to sleep. She’s nearly there when Kara whispers, “what about J?”

Her brow furrows, sleep addled brain too slow to pick up the meaning, but as the letter settles between them realization dawns on her, wakes her, gets her head off the pillow. Kara looks down at her, nervous and proud at the same time. The names of the men who have influenced Kara during her time on earth race to the front of her mind. Jeremiah, the man who took her wife in, who accepted Kara as his own, who protected Kara with his life. J’onn, who watched over her in Jeremiah’s absence, a man who bared the same burden of being the last of a long gone world and who could understand Kara when others couldn’t. James, who accepted both sides of Kara as easy as breathing. James, who has become one of the best friends either Kara or herself as ever had. James, who made it possible for them to have their baby.

Lena thinks of Jack, too. She doubts the name crossed Kara’s mind when she suggested the letter, but it leaps out to Lena right next to others. Her handsome Jack who wanted to save the world with her. The first person who didn’t care that she was a Luthor, the first person she ever loved, the first person who ever loved her.

Lena smiles and it’s like that was all the courage Kara needed to break out into her own grin. “J is perfect.”

—

“Fuck,” Rachel whines and Quinn looks up Rachel’s body, watches as Rachel squeezes at her breasts, fingers twisting and tightening around her nipples. Quinn curls her fingers, pushes Rachel’s thigh away from her head when the brunette tries to bring her legs together. She’s exhausted, honestly, but Quinn can’t be left alone with her thoughts. She needs to remain focused and she needs to be doing something and if that means making Rachel cum until dawn breaks, then that’s what she’s going to do.

A hand leaves Rachel’s chest and tangles in Quinn’s hair before Rachel grinds her cunt against Quinn’s mouth. It’s too much, with her hand there too, so Quinn pulls out and the distressed noise that pulls from Rachel at the loss brings a warped smile to Quinn’s lips. She thinks to tease, starts to blow coolly over the hot wet flesh but Rachel pushes her head back down and Quinn can’t help but laugh against Rachel before she starts eating her out in earnest. 

Three orgasms later, Rachel tugs Quinn up, catches her lips, kisses her messily. Rachel practically purrs as she licks the taste of herself out of Quinn’s mouth. She may not know Rachel very well, not anymore, but all Quinn can think is  _ of course _ Rachel would get off on her own taste. Rachel’s probably the kind of person to have mirrors all around her room just so she can watch herself have sex.

Rachel’s hand skirts down Quinn’s stomach and though her body is throbbing with the desire to be touched, Quinn’s muscles tense under Rachel’s traveling fingers. Quinn breaks their kiss just as Rachel rears back herself. She expects Rachel to look worried, maybe even offended. She doesn’t expect Rachel to look up at her like she understands what Quinn is doing,  _ why _ Quinn is acting the way she is. 

But Rachel just stares up at her with kind, knowing eyes and it’s too much. Quinn can’t deal with this, not after everything else.

She puts her hands on Rachel’s hips and they move together like they’ve done this a thousand times before. Quinn flips Rachel to her stomach, following Quinn’s direction easily, willingly. Rachel keeps her cheek against the bed as she presents herself to Quinn, cunt still twitching in overstimulation, and it’s all the go ahead Quinn needs to dive back in.

—

It’s a surprisingly beautiful morning in Metropolis considering the time of year. Lena is surprisingly eager to enjoy it, despite the tossing and turning she did in her sleep.

She wonders how awful pregnancy would feel if she had been the kind of person to regularly get at least six hours of sleep before.

The sun is just starting to poke over the horizon and the buildings around their hotel glitter in the light, the streets below already bustling despite the fact that it’s only 6 am. Her body feels a little sluggish but she’s sure that a shower will help. 

And a good, solid whiff of Kara’s coffee.

Across the table, Kara is tying her shoes, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that lacks the usual finesse, no doubt due to the wet locks. Lena can still smell a hint of smoke clinging to her wife, despite Kara showering as soon as she returned from helping Clark, but it isn’t enough to make her stomach turn on her. It makes Lena think that today will be as nice as it already feels.

Shoes tied, Kara stands with a bright smile, sliding her half of the newspaper over to Lena. “Something sweet with your savory,” Kara asks and Lena nods, elongating herself to meet Kara for a kiss. Lena murmurs a thank you that has Kara kissing her again before grabbing the hotel room key and heading out to fulfill Lena’s cravings before their flight. 

The pillow she shoved behind her back starts to slip and her hips have started pleading with her to sit on something comfier, so she pushes herself up, deciding that she’ll read the Arts section in the tub.

She starts looking over the articles on her way to the en suite, starting from where Kara had stopped. Most stories not as eye catching as other parts of the newspaper, but it’s a nice reprieve from the political garb of the other sections. Closing the paper, Lena tucks it in one hand as she twists the knobs on the tub faucet. Once the temperature is just right, she closes the drain and promptly strips naked, the paper sitting nicely next to the tub. There’s an article on the front page that draws her eye immediately. She wastes no time scooping the paper back up, reading the article intently.

A coalition of sorts seems to be forming between nationally famous museums, with the express intent of sharing art and artifacts of alien cultures. The thought initially makes Lena bristle. Most artifacts, though incredibly fascinating to look at and learn from, are not exactly obtained with permission. However, as the article continues, Lena learns that the goal is for aliens to volunteer items that hold significance to their culture. The museums will be searching for art as well, of home planets and life as it was there, created by aliens themselves. The goal appears to be a national tour of the exhibit with the hope that museums will implement permanent exhibitions after the tour leaves. The original work will end up housed permanently in the Smithsonian.

Lena holds the paper right in her hands, lets it fall to her stomach once she’s done. Her mind has already started racing with how to get Kara in contact with the people coordinating exhibit, and she abandons the paper and the tub to find her phone. Why hadn’t Kara mentioned this article? It was perfect for her…

Lena grabs her phone from the bedside table and jumps a little when it starts ringing in her palm. Eyebrows furrowing, she looks down at her screen to see a number she doesn’t know. The area code is local for Metropolis and Lena guesses it’s someone from the company or perhaps the driver that will be taking them to the airport later. It’s not as if a lot of people have access to her number.

Clearing her throat, Lena picks up the call. “Hello,” she says as she heads back to the tub to turn off the water. It’s quiet on the other line but Lena can hear quick, short breathing. She really hopes she doesn’t have to get a new number again.

She’s about to hang up, not wanting to give the creep who somehow got her number another moment of her time, when the person on the other end speaks up. “I’m sorry to do this to you,” the voice says and it’s unfamiliar to Lena, this ragged, feminine voice. “I  _ do not _ do this, but you’re the only person I could think to talk to.” The words rush out a little faster, breathing labored. 

Whoever this is feels as if they know Lena and it almost makes her feel bad for not knowing who it is. There’s still the nagging feeling in the back of her head, warning her that this could still be some stalker or hacker, but she can’t help herself. “That’s okay,” she says lightly. “I’m terribly sorry to ask, but who is this?”

A strangled sort of laugh comes through before a sigh. “It’s Quinn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr @idontneedtobeforgiven


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever and I totally apologize for that. I couldn't write for a bit due to an injury and then it was like pulling teeth to get this chapter done. But it's here! Thank you all for the wonderful comments and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Note: A summary for this chapter could be Quinn's No Good Bad Day

She’s embarrassed.

No one has seen her yet, at least not that Quinn’s really aware, and no one has heard her labored breathing save for Lena on the other end of the line.

But Quinn knows how awful she must look, how pathetic, sitting on a lounge chair by the pool. The cool air is almost soothing, lets her breathe a little easier, dries the sweat on her skin. She’s in an oversized shirt and underwear, no shoes, and she has no doubt her face is puffy from crying. 

“Quinn,” Lena parrots, and she sounds like she’s beyond surprised by this turn of events. Quinn has to admit she is too. 

“I don’t make spectacles of myself like this,” Quinn says. She tries to get her breathing under control, tries to regulate it but it’s no use. 

She should have grabbed a Xanax. 

“And trust me, this  _ really _ isn’t how I planned on first speaking to you.” Tears well up in her eyes again. “I’m certain I wouldn’t have even been the one to approach you first,” Quinn murmurs. There’s snot running down from her nose and she wipes it with her free hand, then wipes it on her shirt. “But I need to know what it was like for you.”

“What what was like for me,” Lena asks Quinn groans, frustrated with herself that she can’t just come out and say what she wants. Why she can’t just tell Lena about Beth, about her fears and insecurities, about how she’s not ready to face the day. But the very thought of being honest, of being vulnerable, to someone who is more or less a stranger chokes her, has her vision blurring when all she’s trying to do is look down at her feet. 

She squeezes her eyes shut and takes huge gulping breaths through her mouth. “You always knew you were adopted,” she manages to get out. It’s less a question than a statement and it feels like a stupid starting point but it’s the only thing she can seem to say.

“Yes,” Lena says, voice gentle if not a little unsure. “Even if I didn’t remember my-“ Lena breaks off and for a moment Quinn is worried the call dropped. Lena clears her throat, takes a deep breath herself, before starting again. “Even if I didn’t remember  _ our _ mother, my stepmother never once let me forget I was adopted.”

For a moment, Quinn wishes she was in a better place so that she could savor this moment. To personally hear her sister’s voice for the first time. To pick out how deep [would you use this to describe their voices?] their voices are, to marvel at how genuine Lena sounds. They don’t know eachother, not really at all, and yet here Lena is, sounding like she wants to help Quinn with this.

Quinn’s breath catches in her throat, something she’s sure Lena could hear. Quinn rubs at the back of her neck, wipes her wet hand across her chest. She eyes the pool and thinks jumping in might feel great.

“What did you want to know about her,” Quinn asks, pushing up from the lounge chair. She glances toward the hotel doors just to make sure no one is going to drop in unexpected before walking over to the pool’s steps. Hand gripping the railing, she closes her eyes. “If you had the opportunity when you were sixteen to meet her, what would you have asked?”

Quinn steps into the pool when Lena stays silent, gets to the second step before she hears Lena take a soft breath. “I would’ve wanted to know everything.” The water barely reaches the T-shirt she wears, laps at the fabric and wets it when Quinn shifts her weight from one leg to the other. “Or maybe not everything… just, anything. Anything at all. I think just looking at her would’ve felt like enough.”

“No it wouldn’t have,” Quinn returns. She surprises herself with the statement and she feels her pulse pick up again, worried she’s just offended Lena some how.

But then there’s a short laugh. “You’re right, it wouldn’t have,” Lena says. “But even just knowing her favorite color, her favorite food… I just wanted to feel connected to someone back then.” Lena’s voice begins to waver and Quinn licks her lips. “I wanted to be loved, if I’m being honest.”

Love. Connected. “Fuck,” Quinn growls. If that’s what Beth wants from her, she might as well head to the airport now. She doesn’t… she  _ can’t _ \- “Fuck,” Quinn yells again. She sits down, not caring that she’s wet from the tops of her thighs down.

Lena clears her throat. “So, I suppose that is  _ not _ what you wanted to hear?” Quinn thinks that Lena is trying to lighten the moment but she has such tunnel vision that Quinn can see no possible way for her heart to feel like it’s not going to beat out of her chest. 

Quinn knows that she won’t hear what she wants to, not when Lena knows so little about the situation. She kicks a leg out, a half hearted attempt to release her ire over Santana not answering her phone earlier. How easy it would have been to pour her heart out to her best friend. Santana was there, Santana knows enough of Quinn’s eternal inner dilema, knows how to handle Quinn when she doesn’t know how to handle herself. Lena is a stranger. A stranger who was adopted and longed for her mother.

Quinn doesn’t want to think of Beth being the same as Lena.

The tears start pouring down her cheeks again and Quinn drops her head into her free hand. She’s not sure how long she’s been crying when Lena asks, “What is it, Quinn?” Her fingers tighten in her hair, pulls until her scalp screams at her. “Let me help, Quinn, please.”

The story does not fall out easily. She may be an emotional wreck but Quinn still cannot bring herself to talk about Beth with any sort of ease. Beth will forever be her Kryptonite; something to choke her, to fill her with unease, to break her heart.

She tells Lena what Quinn thinks she needs to hear. She tells Lena that she had a baby at the age of fifteen, that she gave that baby up for adoption. She tells Lena that there was once a very basic relationship between them, one that had thinned even more as she and Beth grew up. She tells Lena that she’s due to have breakfast with Beth and she admits, uneasily, that she’s terrified. “I can’t… I don’t…” Quinn hiccups through her tears. She’s almost certain that the door from the hotel opens but no one approaches her. After all, who would come up to a woman crying crazily at three in the morning? “I can’t offer Beth the love you wanted from your- _ our _ mother. What if that’s what she’s looking for?”

Lena takes an audible breath. “Well, I don’t know the relationship Beth has with her mom,” Lena starts and it is such a strange sensation to hear someone new talk about Beth, someone who doesn’t fear saying her name. “I don’t know if she wants the same things I did. I had a horrible step mother and absent father.” Somehow, that makes Quinn loosen up. Though she doesn’t know intricacies of Shelby and Beth’s relationship, Quinn is certain it is normal teenager stuff. When she had emailed Shelby before, Shelby wasn’t worried about it. Beth didn’t come across as mistreated or depressed. Maybe Quinn won’t have to figure out how to tell Beth that she can’t love her the way a mother would, that she can’t offer her any sort of maternal guidance. 

Maybe this is just Beth trying to make Shelby jealous. Quinn thinks she could handle being used.

The water is starting to chill her now, the wind from the ocean picking up as her body cools from the deepest throes of her panic attack. “But,” Lena continues and Quinn sits up straight. “I do hope that you’re prepared to give her something.”

Quinn closes her eyes, swallowing hard. “What do you mean?”

“As much as I wanted my mother growing up, I think it would have been devastating to have her so close but so far away.” It reminds Quinn of what Santana told her before, though it had been about Lena rather than Beth. She has a habit of only offering up bits and pieces of herself and it’s unfair to those around her but she doesn’t know how to stop it, how to break the cycle she finds herself trapped in. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been subjected to that kind of torture, Quinn, but that’s what it is… Pure torture.”

Lena sounds so far away then and if Quinn were a more selfless person, she’d wonder what Lena has gone through.

But Quinn is selfish. She doesn’t spare a thought to Lena’s harrowing upbringing, instead thinking of nothing but being thrown out of her home at fifteen.

She needed her mom then. She was terrified and ashamed and she wanted nothing more than her mom to save her, to tell her everything was going to be okay, somehow, some way. She remembers aching for her mom as she felt a baby swimming inside her and getting only a tearful look and a turned back in return.

She must have been quiet for too long because Lena lets out a noisy breath. “I’m sorry if that’s not what you were looking for, but I’d rather not begin this relationship with lies.”

“No, no,” Quinn says, sniffing roughly and standing up. “I appreciate the honesty, I do.”

“I’m sorry that it didn’t make you feel better,” Lena adds and Quinn feels a laugh tug in her throat but it doesn't find its way out.

“I don’t think there’s anything that could be said to make me feel better,” Quinn murmurs. 

Someone on the other end calls Lena’s name and Quinn thinks she’s commandeered enough of Lena’s time. But Lena, voice a little further away, as if she’s taken the phone away from her face, says, “Give me a minute… Yes, leave me the donut, I’ll be out in a second.” 

“You should get on with your day,” Quinn says. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lena responds, voice clear and close once more. “I’ll stay on the line all night if you need me to, Quinn.”

Quinn swallows thickly, unused to people putting her first, especially someone she barely knows. It makes her skin crawl a little and she knows now that it’s time to hang up. She’s not good but she’s better than she was, and Quinn wants to hold on to this feeling a little longer. “No, no, I’ve kept you long enough...Thank you, for answering. I,” Quinn sighs with her whole body, licks her lips before grabbing on to the pole next to her. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Quinn,” Lena says. “I hope I helped?”

She sounds so unsure and Quinn quells it despite herself. “You did. It may not seem like it, but you did.”

Lena releases a soft breath, like she had been worried that she hadn’t really helped. “Good. I hope it goes well later,” Lena says after a moment of silence between them. Another moment passes and Quinn thinks of just hanging up, not sure what more she can say when Lena adds, “And while I’ve got you, I’d just like to apologize for how awkward Kara was when you ran into her.”

That does manage to pull a rough laugh from Quinn and when they do hang up soon after, Quinn feels she can breathe a little easier.

—

Kara’s doing a very good job at pretending she hasn’t been listening in on Lena’s call. Lena can hear her setting up their breakfast on the table by the window, notices the pause when Lena’s been silent for longer than she has been. Her body still aches for the bath that has no doubt already gone cold but her stomach growls audibly, making her decision for her.

She picks up the chocolate bar Kara left beside her, takes two huge bites. Her shoulders sag as the sugar hits her tongue, and oh, she must be a sight, sitting on the edge of the tub, naked and hair in a messy bun, legs spread to accommodate her pregnant belly, cheeks full of donut. Lena lets her eyes close and tries to just focus on what this morning has brought her.

Kara clears her throat and Lena doesn’t open her eyes right away, allows herself to swallow the food in her mouth before seeing Kara leaning in the doorway. “Good choice,” Kara asks, a light laugh coloring her question.

“ _ So good _ ,” Lena says. Kara smiles, proud of herself, and Lena puts her donut down so she can pull the stopper from the drain. When she’s sitting back up right, Kara is beside her with the robe Lena had brought from home.

Kara’s mouth works from side to side, lips wrinkled, and Lena watches, amused, at the way the crinkle forms between Kara’s brows. She can see just how badly Kara wants to jump in and bombard this silence with questions, so Lena stands, ignoring the way Kara holds up the robe for her to step into. “Darling,” Lena says as she puts her hands on Kara’s shoulders. Kara rolls her lips over her teeth, biting down so that her mouth doesn’t worry so much, and Lena almost wants to laugh at the way Kara raises her eyebrows to try and eliminate all the expressions that play on her face. Lena takes a deep breath. “That was my sister.”

Kara exhales with her entire body and Lena’s lips quirk as Kara droops, her forehead dropping onto Lena’s shoulder. “I know,” Kara admits, resulting in Lena half heartedly pushing her away with a laugh. “Your reaction wasn’t at all what I was expecting.”

Lena fits her arms through her robe when Kara holds it up again. “What do you mean?” She wraps the stretchy fabric over her extended stomach, turns to look at Kara again as she ties the robe just under her chest.

With a lift of one shoulder, Kara says, “I meet Quinn and you’re yelling ‘what the fuck’ at me. I thought you speaking to her for the first time would at least warrant some sort of exclamation.” 

Lena hums as she grabs what’s left of her donut. “She’s lost, I think,” Lena says when she wraps an arm around her wife’s middle. “Not necessarily sad but…” She lets her head fall to Kara’s shoulder. “Lost,” Lena repeats. Kara wraps her up in a hug and Lena knows that’s explanation enough, that Kara gets it. 

They both know what it’s like to be weighed down by other’s emotions, to push their own into the distance in an effort to work on comforting those who need it.

Lena presses a kiss to Kara’s shoulder, accepts the kisses Kara leaves on her temple before guiding them to the table to eat.

She can do nothing now but hope for Quinn.

—

Rachel pulls into the parking lot of a diner near LAX, appearing to have no intention of parking. 

Quinn’s head snaps from where she’s been looking out the window, moving so swiftly that she notices Beth perk up from whatever she’s been doing on her phone. “There’s a parking spot just on the other side of that van.” Quinn can’t see Rachel’s eyes behind her sunglasses but she can feel the confusion flowing off the other woman in waves. There’s a moment where Rachel doesn’t move and Quinn is faced with the thought that Rachel may actually leave them here, leave her to deal with Beth alone. It’s an unfair thought. Rachel owes her nothing, has no real reason to attend this meeting. What Beth is looking for, whatever it might be, Rachel doesn’t have the answers. 

Her panic is cut short when a car pulls up behind them and Rachel flips on her blinker before turning into the spot Quinn had pointed out.

The diner is busy, the chatter of the patrons and the knocking of silverware against dishes filling up the space. Quinn’s claustrophobia kicks up, dances with her anxiety to make bile rise in her throat. She wishes, not for the first time this morning, that she’d taken a sleeping pill last night instead of fucking Rachel and crying to Lena.

They get a table near the back of the restaurant, small talk flowing easy between Rachel and Beth. It does nothing to calm Quinn but it does allow her to focus on her breathing, to busy her hands with the menu and the coffee the waitress pours when she seats them. 

Beth keeps glancing at Quinn and to see her own eyes looking back at her sends a shiver through Quinn. She tries not to look back at the younger girl but it’s impossible and she hates that she is studying Beth in a way she wasn’t afforded the night before.

Quinn wonders if this is Beth’s normal. At the recital, Beth had a fair amount of make up on her face, hair done nicely. Now, Beth’s face is bare, a small silver hoop piercing the skin around her left eyebrow, and her hair is pinned to the sides of her head, no doubt in an effort to obscure the now flat, mused curls leftover from the night before. It’s possible, like most anything is, that Beth goes out like this all the time, that she is nothing like how Quinn was at her age, always careful to leave the house done up perfectly so it was one less way the world could hurt her.

She remembers the girl climbing into the backseat of Rachel’s car with no comment other than it was  _ unfairly early _ . Rachel just smirked through the rear view mirror and when Quinn ventured the tiniest glance under the guise of looking through her purse, she had found Beth huddled against the window, eyes closed and feet pulled beneath her. 

Maybe this isn’t Beth’s normal. Maybe Quinn should stop thinking about what could be when the thought of knowing so much more about Beth makes her feel like throwing up.

Once their orders are placed, Beth clears her throat and straightens in her chair. Quinn half expects a fully prepared monologue to come out of Beth’s mouth, to approach this the same way Rachel approached nearly everything in high school. Instead, Beth just tilts her head, looks at Quinn more carefully than she has this morning, and asks, “if you had to pick: French toast, pancakes, or waffles?”

Quinn had already put her hand around her glass of water, had already anticipated needing a moment to steel herself, but the question throws her off so quickly that Quinn’s fingers just slip across the condensation on the outside of her water glass. “Excuse me?”

Beth leans a little to the side, no doubt putting a foot underneath herself, and repeats her question. “I’m waffles all the way,” Beth adds.

Quinn unspools her utensils, uses the napkin to dry her fingertips. “I prefer pancakes,” Quinn answers after another moment. Beth nods, considers the answer and Quinn worries that the question was somehow bigger than what it was. Rachel’s ankle hooks around her own under the table, a silent reassurance that Quinn nearly flinches at. 

“So,” Beth starts and  _ surely _ , this is it now. This is when Beth will launch into her invasive questions, will needle Quinn into giving answers Quinn herself isn’t even sure she has. “Have you ever met Superman,” is the second question Quinn gets. 

She could scream.

She doesn’t. She furrows her eyebrows and Beth rolls her eyes, like she has any right to be exasperated about Quinn. “You live in Metropolis,” Beth says, voice louder than it’s been all morning. “Doesn’t every one from there have a Superman story?” Rachel laughs next to Quinn and that seems to be enough of a confirmation for Beth. “You have! What’s he like?”

“Well, we didn’t exactly get much time to chat,” Quinn says, hand once again back on her cup. She slides it closer, then swirls the straw so it sits in front of her. “He stopped my office from being obliterated.”

Beth drops her chin into the palm of her hand, elbow resting on the table. “He had to have said  _ something _ , or gave you… I don’t know, a salute?”

Something like a laugh comes from Quinn. “A salute?”

Beth nods. “I’ve seen Supergirl throw a salute.”

Quinn’s smile is tight but not as forced as she knows it could be. “Well, Superman didn’t salute me.” Quinn clears her throat and tucks her hair behind her ear. “He just asked if I was okay and, once I told him I was, he was off taking care of something else.”

Beth glances at Rachel. “I was expecting a cooler story.”

Rachel laughs and Quinn’s cheeks heat up. “Sorry to disappoint,” Quinn murmurs before taking a drink of water. Beth is going on about her own Supergirl story and Rachel chimes in with hers and it all feels so perfectly normal that Quinn can’t stand it. 

How can they both sit here like this? 

Quinn looks at her watch and then very calmly looks at Beth. She’s all tired smile and soft eyes. 

It makes her angry.

Hands clenched in tight fists, Quinn cuts Rachel off mid sentence. “What is this,” Quinn demands. It earns her wide eyes from Rachel, her foot immediately releasing Quinn’s as she straightens in her chair. Beth doesn’t look as surprised, eyes only opening a fraction more, but her lips purse in irritation. “I’m going home in three hours,” Quinn continues. Her palms are sweaty, knuckles white in her lap. Despite every part of her wanting to maintain her composure, to look like she’s in control, she knows her outburst has already ruined the facade she’s put up. She lets her shoulders drop and she lets her next words out around a sigh. “What do you want from me? Because I can’t sit here and pretend we have the kind of relationship where we catch up over breakfast.”

Beth clears her throat and Quinn can feel Rachel practically vibrating next to her. Before Beth gets a chance to talk, Rachel bolts up, pushing her plate away from her. “I have to go to the bathroom,” is the excuse she gives, already halfway to the back of the restaurant.

Beth sets her hands on top of the table, fingers loosely intertwined. There’s a look on her face that reminds Quinn of herself but there’s a gentleness to it that Quinn has never had. “I didn’t want to make you feel even more like a deer caught in the headlights,” Beth says, shrugging. “Clearly that wasn’t a good idea either.”

Swallowing hard, Quinn forces herself to relax her fists. “I’m sorry,” Quinn says, mostly because she feels she should. “I’m not-“ She wants to say she’s not very good at this, not good at talking about Beth and not good at talking to her. She’s not good at figuring out what her feelings are, not about this. Quinn decides against it, figures that she would simply be stating the obvious, tries not to think about how Beth already has a better handle on how Quinn is than the other way around.

Had Shelby told her? Rachel? Puck? Did these people who used to know her prepare Beth or is Quinn so easy to read in her neglect?

“I don’t know what I want from you,” Beth says before Quinn can choke anything out. “I’m not looking for a mom or anything, if that’s what really worries you.” A humorless laugh makes its way out of Quinn’s throat and Quinn is surprised to see Beth smile in reaction. “My mom is…” Beth sighs. “I love her but I’m a teenager, you know? We’re differing on a lot of shit but that doesn’t mean I think I need you as that mother figure.”

Quinn nods, licks her lips before braving a hand over the top of the table. Her hand is thankfully steady as she lifts her coffee mug to her mouth. She wishes it was hot enough to burn going down. “I just want to know you,” Beth continues. “Is that so awful?”

She seems so earnest that Quinn suddenly feels unworthy of being at the table with Beth. She came into this like she was walking to her execution and here Beth is with an open heart and an open hand. “I’m not that great,” Quinn says. The hand still warm from her coffee cup comes to rest on the back of her neck, fingers prodding at the tension that’s taken root.

Beth takes her bottom lip between her teeth and Quinn notices the faint mark of an old piercing at the right corner of Beth’s bottom lip. She wonders how many piercings Shelby let Beth get before wondering if Shelby even knew about them beforehand. 

Beth suddenly seems smaller. She’s shrunk in her seat, shoulders hunched and hands in her lap, and Beth looks as young as she really is in that moment. The mature air she had been carrying herself with since the start of this particular conversation has evaporated in one swoop. She opens her mouth and Quinn thinks Beth won’t actually look at her when she speaks but at the last second, Beth lifts her chin. “You’re part of me,” Beth whispers. “I don’t care what you are or how you are… I came from you, Quinn. Why wouldn’t I want to know about you?”

Her mind drifts unwillingly to Lena, to Keeva. With a small nod, Quinn says, “I understand.” She swallows thickly. “All I can promise is to try… I need to go slow.” Beth nods, so understanding. Quinn would’ve never raised her to be this kind. “I know it’s strange but this… you’re a very difficult part of my life, Beth.”

Beth gives her a sad smile. “I know.” There’s a shift beneath Beth’s sweatshirt and Quinn follows Beth’s eyes to where they look at the hand Quinn has left on the table. She wants to touch her. Quinn’s hand balls up and she can’t look at Beth’s face when she puts it in her lap. She hears Beth let out a long exhale through her nose and when Quinn does look back up, Beth’s picked up her fork again. “Just don’t ghost me again, okay?”

\--

Lena has never been a fan of flying and, truthfully, since she’s begun traveling with Kara, she hates it even more. It doesn’t matter if they’re flying commercial or on one of LCorp’s private jets, Kara complains a lot about feeling confined, hates the feeling of being in the air without actually being in the air. 

At the moment, Kara’s leg is bouncing up and down, her tablet forgotten on the tray in front of her. Lena tries to keep going on her laptop, writing up an email to Jess regarding her time in Metropolis and then there’s a report Sam sent from their European headquarters that needs her attention. After all these years, Lena can ignore Kara’s anxious flitting when she needs to, but Kara keeps looking over Lena’s shoulder and it’s enough to make her scream. 

“Darling,” Lena says when Kara reaches over Lena to open up the window. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Nope.” Kara pops the letters and smiles at Lena like she hasn’t been practically dancing in the seat next to Lena since they boarded. Lena’s one smile is tight, her nose wrinkling just so. “I finished my article,” Kara adds, drumming her fingers on Lena’s thigh. 

“That’s wonderful,” Lena sighs. She adjusts the brightness on her screen since Kara seems to want to look out the window. “Unfortunately, I have not finished my work.” Kara just smiles, nice and easy, drops a kiss to Lena’s lips. At some point she’s taken Lena’s hand in hers and Lena has to close her eyes and take a breath. 

Kara is just being sweet. Lena needs to not get irritated when her wife is just trying to love on her.

“Can I braid your hair?”

Lena sags. “If you’ll let me finish up my things, you can do whatever you want, Kara. But I do need to get these things done.”

Kara quirks an eyebrow, smirk pulling at her lips for a moment, but the innuendo passes quickly, Kara unbuckling herself and standing. Lena wasn’t sure how Kara was going to manage braiding her hair. Lena certainly wasn’t going to attempt to turn in her seat, not with her stomach and her laptop. Somehow, despite knowing that Kara will strike up a conversation with literally anything, Lena did not expect her wife to charm the man sitting behind her.

He looks irritated when he drops down into Kara’s seat and Lena would normally inquire as to how this man came to temporarily switch seats but her work is calling her.

She allows Kara to manipulate her head, Kara’s fingers pulling Lena’s hair out of her bun, carefully combing out the locks that have started getting thicker. In the time it takes Kara to weave her hair into intricate braids around her head, Lena’s able to finish up her summary of the merger and instruct Jess on what needs to be taken care of ASAP. Rather than coming back from behind Lena, Kara makes conversation with her new seat mate and Lena finds herself breathing a little easier knowing that Kara is being kept entertained.

Lena stops reading Sam’s report abruptly at the thought. Instantly, she’s reminded of all the times she’d gone to Lionel or Lillian. On the rare occasions they’d been home, they were usually both busy with work. She remembers being a wisp of an eight year old, excitedly wanting to talk to Lionel about finishing Moby Dick. He had smiled when she came up to his desk, gave her cheek a soft pat, and told her he had too much work to get done. He reminded her to knock next time as she left.

The baby quickens in her stomach and somewhere on the plane a baby starts screaming and Lena has to work quickly on regulating her breathing. There’s a pause behind her then Kara’s hand is pushing between the seat and the side of the plane. Kara stretches until her fingers brush against Lena’s arm. Lena gives the fingers a small squeeze, a gentle tug, as the crying baby gets louder.

How is she going to be a mother when she can’t even manage doing work around her wife? 

Kara’s beside her, grumpy old man back to his original seat, and Lena knows Kara must look so worried. Kara palms her cheek, tries to get Lena to turn her head that direction but all Lena can do is squeeze her eyes shut tighter. There’s a logical voice in her head, telling her she’s crazy. They’ve been together for years and this has never been a problem. Clearly, it is all of these hormones rushing through her that’s responsible for this sudden and ludicrous doubt. 

That logical voice is drowned out by a much louder one, one that tells her she’s not going to be able to do it all. Lena cannot be a CEO, a scientist, a wife, and a mother. She’ll be just like her parents. She’ll be too busy, too distant. Kara will resent her for it and then Lena will lose her baby and her wife.

Kara presses her head against Lena’s temple and the hand that had been on Lena’s cheek has come to rest at her neck. “I love you,” Kara murmurs. “Always. Forever. Every time. Every universe.” Kara repeats herself, their son providing a contestant kick in time with his mother’s words. 

She doesn’t know how long it takes for her heartbeat to slow back to something close to normal. Lena knows she’s not calm, not yet, but she shifts to press her lips to Kara’s. The baby on the plane is still crying and Lena knows that she won’t be able to fully relax until it’s stopped. 

And then it all gets worse.

Lena looks down and realizes her breasts have started leaking, the smallest of spots appearing on her top. A heavy sigh mixed with a pained whine seeps out of her. 

She finally feels the claustrophobia Kara always does on planes.

“Kara,” Lena says, low and firm. “I need you to get me two dry cloths.” She doesn’t know if Kara notices or not, only knows that Kara does what Lena asks without hesitation or question. All too aware of her chest now, Lena can feel herself leaking more with each cry from the child that isn’t hers, her body responding instinctually. It’s an unsettling sensation, one Lena isn’t sure she’ll get used to.

How had she let Kara talk her into this?

Lena shakes her head to herself. She wasn’t talked into this. A baby with Kara was something she had been on board with. The reality of it is simply proving to be much more complex than Lena anticipated.

Kara is back at her side, hands offering up the towels, her eyes flickering all over Lena. Without any sort of class, Lena folds the towels and shoves them into each cup of her bra. Kara’s hand slips into her own. “No going into the office today,” her wife murmurs. “Okay?”

Lena closes her laptop, work forgotten, and nods.

—

She’s more than a little surprised that Quinn agrees to let her take her to the airport. What isn’t surprising is the silence that radiates from the blonde, permeates the car and Rachel’s body. 

Breakfast had ended without anymore fanfare and Beth had left the restaurant on the arm of a friend. She probably should have checked with Shelby to see if that was okay, but it’s not as if the friend seemed crazy. Beth likely text Shelby anyway.

Quinn’s been staring out the window for most of the trip. Rachel wonders if this is just how they’ll part. If Rachel will pull up to the curb and Quinn will silently exit from the car and her life like always. 

Maybe that’d be for the best.

Rachel’s phone vibrates against the cup holder and she finds MATTHEW staring at her from the screen on her dash. Rachel glances at Quinn to find that the call hasn’t roused her from this contemplation and Rachel quietly sends the call to voicemail.

Something like guilt crawls up Rachel’s throat and if she were a better person, Rachel would strengthen the divide between her and Quinn. Widen it until it looks like it did all those years ago, when high school was still visible in the rear view.

Rachel takes the exit off the freeway and Quinn shifts in her seat. “I’m sorry.”

Rachel looks over. Quinn is facing her now but her eyes remain hidden behind tortoise shell glasses. Rachel’s not sure being able to look into Quinn’s eyes would help anyway. She’s always had a way of looking impassive. “For what,” Rachel asks, flicking on her blinker and tearing across three lanes.

A soft breath then. “Last night. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Rachel’s knuckles tighten on the wheel to stop herself from reaching out to touch Quinn. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t consent to.”

The light turns red and LAX is staring down at them from across the street. Rachel turns to look at Quinn again only to find that Quinn’s turned away from her. She’s got her elbow on the door, head propped up in her hand, and Rachel can see just enough of Quinn’s face beneath her glasses. There’s a shine to Quinn’s eye, a wrinkle nearly invisible to the world at Quinn’s brow. 

Rachel must be seeing things.

Quinn turns her head further, clears her throat as she lets her arm fall back to her lap. “That doesn’t mean it was any less fair.”

Rachel shrugs a shoulder. The light turns green, their time together shrinking fast with her foot resting on the pedal. “It was what you needed. I’m okay with that.” What wasn’t okay was waking up to any empty hotel room and a few dozen missed texts and two voicemails. What wasn’t okay was finding Quinn in the pool, on the phone and crying. What wasn’t okay was pretending she never saw Quinn and going back to the hotel room to send some version of a lie to Matthew. What wasn’t okay was Quinn creeping back in and fucking Rachel again for another two hours like she wasn’t completely broken at the seams.

Quinn has started to gather her things, a purse and an overnight bag, and Rachel takes a shaky breath. “I don’t want it to happen again though.” Quinn’s motions slow, the only indication Rachel gets that she heard her. Rachel shakes her head. “I can’t.”

Rachel pulls up to the curb and she half expects Quinn to bolt right there, before she’s even fully brought the car to a complete stop. Quinn’s free hand is already on the handle. Rachel braces herself for the hasty exit Quinn always makes when she needs to. The door clicks open, a whoosh of hot air sweeping into the car, and Quinn doesn’t move. Rachel can see her jaw working, can practically feel Quinn thinking in the seat next to her. The car in front of them has their trunk open and two people are hugging goodbye like they’ll miss eachother. It’s such a contrast to what is happening in her own car that Rachel has to look down at her lap.

An airport employee is yelling at them to hurry up even as the automated voice says the same thing over the speakers. Cars are going to box Rachel in briefly if Quinn doesn’t just leave like Rachel is sure she wants to.

Bag tugged on to her shoulder, Quinn opens the door fully. “You’re the only person I’d allow myself to-“ Quinn sighs, shakes her head a little and Rachel can’t stop herself from staring at her, can’t look away from the hand squeezing her purse handle or the hair falling over Quinn’s sunglasses. “I wouldn’t trust anybody else with that,” Quinn finishes, chin tucked toward her chest. “But I promise I won’t put you in that position again.”

Quinn’s gone before Rachel can take her next breath.


	10. An Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been much too long and I apologize for that. I've been a little lost on where I'd like to take Quinn's portion of this story (because our girl is sad but I don't want to make her like... super sad you know? But then I worry she comes off as boring which just *sigh*) but I owe you guys something and this chapter, while very much an interlude, is definitely necessary to the story. It's short and not like the others but I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Also, Keeva's notebook entries are NOT linear.
> 
> ALSO, battenthecrosshatches over on tumblr has made some AMAZING art for this story so you should definitely go check it out!

Lena takes a week off of work.

She doesn’t step foot into the office or the lab and she defers everything to Sam. She gives the housekeeper the week off and cleans the house top to bottom herself. She takes lunch to Kara every day and has dinner waiting when she gets home. She’s doting, really, on her wife and she wishes it wasn’t fueled partly by guilt but it is and so her attention turns smothering even if Kara won’t say so. Lena can see it in the wrinkles around Kara’s eyes, the tightness in her jaw.

By Thursday, Kara suggests she make an appointment with her therapist and Lena does, even though she already knows what she’s going to hear. It’s exactly what her logical side has been saying: it will be a learning curve but she will find a balance, mistakes will be made but she can fix them, acknowledging this fear is a step towards avoiding it.

She’s also told, again, to learn more about her birth mother.

Which is why she’s sitting awkwardly on the floor of her walk in closet, cardboard box labeled NOTEBOOKS opened in front of her.

She could’ve easily taken armloads to the bed and read in a much more comfortable position than this, but she’s here now and Lena knows she doesn’t want to expel the extra effort to get back up if she can help it. Not when she has no idea what to expect when she opens up any one of the notebooks before her.

There’s nothing very special about the notebooks, just regular spiral bound that you could find anywhere for cheap. Each one seems to be marked on the cover with dates, presumably when they were started and finished, and some are thicker than others, jumbo notebooks used instead of the thin 70 page ones. There’s no rhyme or reason to the choices, at least as far as Lena can tell from sight alone, and so she picks up the one on the top.

The first few pages appear to be schematics, jerky designs that scream first draft, math scribbled in the margins that don’t quite check out when Lena reviews it. Lower on the page, her mother has corrected herself, the new formula circled in a way that Lena assumes was Keeva’s way of remembering which was correct.

Lena thinks of her own method, scratching a quick X over what she’s decided to trash, and sees the merit of leaving old work unscathed, remembers how many times she’s gone back to see where exactly she’d gone wrong before going forward again.

It’s not until the fifth page that Lena comes across anything remotely personal. Tucked in between two different designs is a paragraph in her mother’s loopy script, the words a little faded from age but still legible.

_Am I crazy for keeping this baby? Lena is still so small and it’s hard enough to get work done with her. Is this lingering Catholic guilt? Is that why I’ve cancelled three appointments at the clinic and why I can’t speak to Ma anymore without wanting to cry?_

Lena swallows hard and is suddenly very thankful she hadn’t sent any of the notebooks to Quinn. Is it bad if she decides to keep this from her? She can feel her heart constrict, the baby kicking at her stomach so hard she can see his foot contorting the side of her stomach under her shirt. Lena rubs a hand over the spot, pushes back against him, and keeps reading.

_\--_

_I am fucking brilliant. Why doesn’t he leave the shrew?_

_\--_

_Quinn laughed for the first time today. It was because Lena licked her foot. Disgusting, but it made Papa laugh too._

_\--_

_I met Mr. Luthor today. He was down in the lab to look over Eric’s prototype. He was unimpressed like I knew he would be. How Eric managed to get hired at Luthor Corp, I’ll never know. He’s an eejit. I was able to step in and show the designs I created when I couldn’t sleep a week and a half ago. Mr. Luthor grinned and insisted my design replace Eric’s._

_\--_

_Russell is so American. He talks about football, drinks basic beer. I’m not even sure why I’m wasting my time._

_\--_

_Lionel saw Russell grab my ass today in the elevator. Normally I’d pinch Russell's nipple for touching me like that at work but then I saw Lionel’s angry flush. Fucker._

_\--_

_Ma is insisting on being here for the birth. She’s already started talking about gathering the supplies she’ll need. I will be damned if I give birth in my fucking apartment._

_\--_

_Another girl. Thank god I’m not growing a penis inside me._

_\--_

_Today, Tessa made me laugh while we were waiting for Eric’s arse to finish setting up a test and I peed a little. Do I have that little control over my body now that I’m making a whole new person? I used to have the bladder of a champion and now I can’t laugh without fear of piss running down my leg? Why do women do this? Why am_ I _doing this?_

_\--_

_I’m such a bloody idiot. The biggest dumbass in the world. Bigger than Eric. Not once have I ever let a man cum in me! Rubber or not, I have always insisted on seeing men blow their load on me. I have too much work, too many things I want to achieve without the restraints of a child. But the minute Lionel called me brilliant, I grew stupid and forgot to tell him to pull out._ **_IDIOT!_ **

_\--_

_I’m not going to tell Russell. The less I have to do with him the better._

_\--_

_She looks like me._ Thank god _, she looks like me. My little Lena._

_\--_

_Quinn has been having such a hard time latching. Today, she pulled back abruptly and I squirted her in the face. A waste of milk. I wish Ma was here. She helped Lena latch perfectly every time._

_\--_

_Lena cried until she was red in the face. Quinn stayed so calm that I nearly started crying._

_\--_

_I’m going insane here. Helping Ma and Papa, minding Lena, being pregnant takes up a lot. But I close my eyes and see nothing but designs I want to bring to life, inventions I could create if I only had a moment. I miss being myself. I don’t think I am anymore._

_\--_

_My areolas and nipples are five shades darker. What is the point of this? I asked Tessa if it was our body’s way of making bullseyes for babies and she laughed so hard she choked on her burrito._

_\--_

_Lena and Quinn ganged up on me today. I wasn’t expecting this to happen so soon. Quinn distracted me with a book while Lena fished the box of grahams out from the top cabinet. I know I shouldn’t think it but I’m proud of these little imps._

_\--_

_I’m not going to keep it. I’d be an absolute moron to. How would I be able to devote the time I need to my work with a baby? Already I’m distracted and I’m only just pregnant. I won’t bother Lionel with this._

_\--_

_I have no idea what the fuck I am doing. Lena won’t stop crying,_ I _wont stop crying, and there is so much shit coming out of my cunt which is apparently_ normal _. This was such an enormous mistake._

_\--_

_Tessa gave me her copy of_ What to Expect When You’re Expecting _. I got to the page on vaginal discharge and had to close the thing._

_\--_

_Quinn is such a wonderfully easy baby. I’ve gotten more work done with her on my chest than I ever did with Lena._

_\--_

_Lena climbed into Quinn’s crib at some point and proceeded to scream when Quinn threw up on her. Lena then threw up on Quinn. I used to invent things. Now I clean up throw up and have to share my bed with two sick things who insist on clinging to me._

_\--_

_Quinn started walking today. She’s two months ahead of when Lena did but I think Lena just motivated her. She’s tired of being left behind. Now she slips alongside her sister. A little scail for Lena._

_\--_

_Quinn has blonde hair. Of course she’d look like the American._

_\--_

_Every time I try to make something, I fail. Visions don’t come complete anymore and I’m too knackered to try and force it. I don’t sleep anymore. Sleep was hard enough with Lena at this point but I know it’s because of Ma too. The only person who sleeps now is Lena. Goes to bed early, sleeps late. Like she’s being considerate of the fact that Papa and I are sitting in the kitchen all night, drinking tea and staring at everything but eachother._

_\--_

_I told Tessa I’m pregnant again and she thought I was joking but when I told her I wasn’t, she nearly dropped Lena. She thinks it’s a stupid idea to have the baby too. Hearing her say that makes me feel less selfish. Maybe we’re both selfish. Either way, I’m calling the clinic tomorrow to set up an appointment._

_\--_

_He asked why I wouldn’t be into work for the rest of the week and I didn’t lie. He asked me not to do it. I know he’s not going to leave his wife. I know that nothing is going to change between us, not really. I hate myself for thinking that maybe this will tether him to me just a little longer. I’m not ready to say goodbye just yet._

_\--_

_Ma met me downstairs today when I came back from dinner. She cornered Tessa and Lisa, asked them about the baby’s father. Tessa sidestepped beautifully. Ma broke Lisa after half a minute. Now Ma won’t talk to me and Lisa owes me lunch for a week._

_\--_

_Lisa’s new supervisor came down to the lab today. I didn’t catch his name but he wouldn’t take his eyes off me. Considering how flabby I still am from Lena, I was a little charmed._

_\--_

_The book warned me about how crazy I would feel while my hormones leveled back out. I was not expecting to turn into an absolute cunt._

_\--_

_Eric started a fire today. What a knobhead._

_\--_

_I cannot wait to get back to work. I need space from my mother and I want to remember what it was like to talk without talking over a crying infant._

_\--_

_Ma is heading back home at the end of the month and I am brilliant but a stupid human. Apparently daycares have waitlists? Reminder: Yell at Tessa for not letting me know I should’ve signed up the minute I decided to have Lena._

_\--_

_Reminder: Buy Lisa and Tessa presents. Lisa is watching Lena Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Tessa’s mother in law has agreed to watch Lena in addition to Tessa’s little boy the rest of the week. Until this morning, I thought I was going to have to beg my mother to come back. Or keep Lena in a box under my desk._

_\--_

_Lena appears to have gotten ahold of this notebook. I’m not sure what it was she was trying to make, but it looks impressive for a three year old. I’ll have to get her a notebook of her own._

_\--_

_Lena fidgets. She was a restless baby but I think she’s old enough now that I can confirm this isn’t just her figuring out how her body works. She can’t sit still. She has to be doing something. Quinn is content with a book._

_\--_

_It is so unbearably hot. I can’t walk to work anymore without having to stop at least five times to catch my breath and I_ have _to bring extra clothes to change into because I’m drenched in sweat after a block and a half. I didn’t realize I was going to turn into an actual furnace._

_\--_

_Ma is trying to teach me how to knit. Her hands move slower each day and she keeps complaining of dropping stitches. Lena tugged on her string and made her lose half a row but Ma just grinned and pulled Lena closer to her side of the bed._

_\--_

_I’m trying to finish the blanket that Ma didn’t. I’ve probably ruined the last thing she touched._

_\--_

_I’m not sure how Quinn found it, but she’s unearthed Ma’s blanket from wherever I stashed it years ago. I thought Lena would throw a fit but they both put themselves down for a nap underneath it. I don’t know what I did to deserve these girls._

_\--_

_Well, I fucked Russell after the company dinner. Because I evidently make the best life choices now. ~~Did Lena steal part of my brain?~~ I was making stupid decisions before I got pregnant with her. _

_\--_

_I met Mrs. Luthor at tonight’s holiday party. She doesn’t seem particularly warm but I suppose neither is Lionel, at least not publicly. She’s a doctor of some sort from what I’ve heard. Smart, in theory. I wonder if she can hold a conversation with him the same way I can given their differences in sciences._

_\--_

_On the phone with Ma for over half an hour while Lena nursed. Papa isn’t doing too well. Something with his diabetes. Ma sounds exhausted. I should try to get out there for Christmas this year. Even if the thought of flying with Lena sounds like the most dreadful thing in the world._

_\--_

_When I woke up this morning, Quinn was in my bed. She had that book of mythology that Ma had given me when I was younger. She was looking at the pages so intently, even the ones without pictures. I tried to read to her but she looked almost annoyed that I interrupted her reading time. My little weirdo._

_\--_

_I don’t understand my girls. Maybe it’s because I never had siblings. They’re so good to each other, so kind. It’s strange, or at least, I think it’s supposed to be. It’s fascinating to watch them. Today, Quinn sat on the grass, reading one of the books I got her while Lena recited math tables and “braided” Quinn’s hair. I hope they can always be like this._

_\--_

_Is it weird that I’ve yet to be alone with my baby? Lena is already a week and Ma is here at every turn. I’d call and ask Tessa but there’s no way Ma wouldn’t hear._

_\--_

_Received a letter from Mrs. Luthor today. She wants me out of the company and offered a lot of money for it. I’m surprised he told her about the baby. I’m assuming that’s the reason for the letter._

_\--_

_Lena smiled at me today. I don’t think she’s done that before. I don’t understand how something so simple made me feel so happy. Hormones._

_\--_

_Ma called while I was over at Tessa’s for dinner. In her voicemail, she asked me if I could come visit soon. Not once since I’ve moved to America has she asked that. She didn’t sound good but she didn’t mention anything being wrong. At first I thought it might be Papa but I’m not so sure anymore._

_\--_

_Papa has been playing the piano again. I never thought I’d hear him play again. Never thought the girls would hear him play. Lena likes it well enough but Quinn is entranced by it. Crawls right up to him and listens with a patience I’m sure is strange in a baby._

_\--_

_I think I need to get Quinn lessons. She’s still tiny but she looks at the piano with such longing. I’m afraid what little I remember won’t be enough to keep her attention. She’ll get frustrated with me._

_\--_

_Got a letter from Tessa today. Asked why I don’t move back now that Ma and Papa are gone. I couldn’t work at Luthor Corp, it’d be too hard. But it would be nice to have a support system again in Tessa and Lisa. It’s strange to think that they haven’t even met Quinn... I should ask if Eric’s still got both eyebrows or if his idiocy has finally claimed them._

_\--_

_Took Lena to central library today. The first time we’ve left the house together for pleasure. She was wonderfully content in her carrier. Managed to find all the books I wanted. How wonderful._

_\--_

_I was cooking today and Lena and Quinn appeared from wherever they’d been and hugged my legs. They told me they loved me, unprompted. When I asked why, Quinn looked at me like I was stupid. Lena answered like it was the most obvious answer in the world: You’re our mum._

_\--_

_Papa insisted on watching Quinn while I took just Lena out. Talked about how, with all his siblings, he never got much one on one time with his mam. Should I be worried about that? My girls feeling like I favour one over the other? I’m going over all these moments now, wondering if I’ve shoved one to the side in favour of the other. Have I already fucked them up?_

_\--_

_Lena and Quinn “helped” out in the garden today. Lena spent her time digging up bugs and constructing little houses for them. Quinn screamed the minute her hand got dirty and spent the rest of our time in the garden sitting on the rock with a book. Lena’s structures were beyond brilliant for her age. She was able to do so much with some sticks, rocks, and foliage._

_\--_

_Ma always talked about the Danu and I naturally thought she was full of shit. But Quinn is absolutely besotted by the book Ma gave me. I didn’t think anything of it at first because she was, barely one? When she first grabbed it. I assumed she liked the smell. There is a reverence in her eyes when she mulls over the pages, though. Between the two, Quinn is probably my odd duck. Her hair so outrageous and like her father’s, her insistence on staying close to Lena, her quiet calculation and reflection… perhaps there’s something more to Quinn than even I can see. Ma would’ve told me. I think she would’ve seen this too._

_\--_

_I think I’m going to stop nursing Lena. It’s getting too cumbersome with my stomach now. She manages to contort to my body but my body hurts. This pregnancy is exhausting in a way it wasn’t with Lena. It’s probably because Ma is gone, because I’m back home and not at all where I ever pictured myself being._

_\--_

_My girls are absolute chunks. Tessa laughed when Lena was born, playing with her cheeks. I’ll have to send her a picture of Quinn because I think they’re even bigger than Lena’s were. They make her eyes squint! And Lena pokes at them and giggles. I’m glad Quinn doesn’t get upset by it._

_\--_

_Lena dressed herself today which meant Quinn had to dress herself. Lena seems to like patterns of all sorts. She wore polka dot shorts despite my constant reminder that it’s freezing out, and a shirt with a zig zag pattern. Her shoes didn’t match but her sunglasses matched her shorts. Quinn faired a little better: a dress and two pairs of wool tights (one for each leg)._

_\--_

_We had lunch in the field today. Papa is still refusing to get up from bed and I don’t want the girls to see him like that. They played with my hair and then rolled around in the grass before running around. They brought me flowers and I attempted to make daisy chains for them. It was an utter failure but they still seemed to like just having flowers in their hair. I can’t say the same. Washing their hair this evening was brutal. Quinn started crying just watching Lena get her hair done._

_\--_

_I am not a strong person. Lena is proving that to me now. Doesn’t she understand I have work and that I need_ sleep _? I can’t just be her milk machine. The worst part is when she smiles up at me from around my nipple. No, child, I’m fucking tired. Get the feck to sleep. I asked Tessa how she managed to survive having an infant and working. Silly me, I forgot the fact that she has a husband and a family right across the border._

_\--_

_I can’t raise two on my own. And Ma needs me. I’m loathe to admit it, but I need her too._

_\--_

_They’re so alike and yet so different. Obviously my girls look like day and night, Lena a mover whereas Quinn is still. But tonight at dinner, Lena threw her food to the floor and despite the fact it’s Quinn’s favourite, she did the same. Lord help me when Lena starts_ planning _._

_\--_

_Lena took it upon herself to start changing Quinn while I was still grabbing the wipes. Shit. Everywhere. On Lena, on the bed, on me. Papa_ laughed _at me when I handed him Quinn to clean up myself and Lena. Fucking old man._

_\--_

_Quinn isn’t by Lena and Lena is sitting unusually still. Something is amiss._

_At some point, Quinn lost a tooth. Neither one will tell me what happened but I’m assuming this is why the girls darted inside earlier. I’ll have to add this to the list as to why I’m probably a terrible mother._

_\--_

_I found Lena at my desk after I cleaned up the breakfast dishes. She was looking at some blueprints I was mostly playing with. She told me, not unkindly, that it wasn’t right. She pulled out her notebook and copied it down the way she thought it should look, asked if I could make the math work for it this way. It was ten times better than what I had envisioned and computing it was simpler. I can’t believe how brilliant my girls are._

_\--_

_Upside to Lena going to school: I can get more work done, especially when Quinn has her lessons. Downside: My house is now a haven for germs. Lena brought home a cold that she gave to both Quinn and I. The girls bounced back pretty fast but I still feel like shit. Please, PLEASE, let this pass soon. I miss being able to breathe._

\--

Lena’s heartbeat has been all over the place today. Nothing too concerning but it’s enough to make Kara head home from work a little early, deciding to finish up her article at home. It’s quiet when she gets into the apartment which isn’t surprising, especially when Kara knows Lena saw her therapist early this morning. Usually Lena likes having music playing when she’s home but introspection requires silence Kara’s come to learn.

Rather than call out to her wife, Kara sets her things down by the door. She takes her time, stops by the kitchen to get some water, goes back to the entryway to get her laptop. She sets it up to charge on the kitchen bar before pulling out her phone and shooting a text to Alex about dinner later. Making her way down the hall, Kara finds the office empty and the nursery, leaving the only logical place for Lena to be their bedroom.

Except there’s no Lena on the bed and the bathroom light is off. Kara pulls her hair from her ponytail with a frown, closing her eyes to focus on the twin heartbeats she knows so well. She’s surprised to find Lena in the closet but when she opens the door to find Lena surrounded by dozens among dozens of notebooks, her breath catches. Lena’s eyes are red rimmed and her cheeks faintly glimmer in the low closet light. Her knees are bent on either side of her belly like she’d tried to get them as close to her body as possible, her hands gripping her legs so tight that her knuckles are white. “Oh, baby,” Kara sighs and Lena makes such a pitiful whine that Kara curses herself for not checking on Lena as soon as she noticed the change in her heartbeat.

She’s at Lena’s side in an instant and Lena falls into her completely. Her breathing is ragged but no more tears come. Kara thinks to pick Lena up and take her to the bed but then Lena is sliding down until her head rests in Kara’s lap, face pressed into Kara’s stomach.

Kara cards her fingers through Lena’s hair until her breath evens out, her eyes shut, and heartbeat steady.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr @ idontneedtobeforgiven


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